


The Favor

by Caroline4329 (c_violet)



Category: The Kissing Booth (2018), The Kissing Booth (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Secret Relationship, Tropes, there wasn't enough tkb fic so I had to write my own, this was supposed to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_violet/pseuds/Caroline4329
Summary: A Kissing Booth alternate universe: the OMGs never tricked Elle into stepping into the kissing booth, Elle and Noah never kissed, and none of the movie after the night of the carnival happened. Now it's the next fall, Noah's at Harvard, and Elle’s asked him for a favor.
Relationships: Elle Evans/Noah Flynn
Comments: 32
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

_Imagine the OMGs never tricked Elle into stepping into the kissing booth. Elle and Noah never kissed and none of the movie after the night of the carnival happened. I'm not saying none of those feelings are there... just that nothing's happened—yet. Now it's the next fall, Noah's at Harvard, and June's asked him for a favor. Warning: ridiculous._

* * *

Professor Hearn's even more fired up than usual today, so it's nearly ten past four when he finally wraps up his lecture and I can start gathering my stuff. Note to self: next semester, don't sign up for Friday afternoon classes. I'm still getting my laptop into my bag when my friend Mike stops next to me.

"Girls' volleyball has a match in thirty minutes and I promised Stephanie I'd bring a cheering section. You in?"

"Not this time."

"Come on... I've mentioned the short shorts, right?"

"Repeatedly. But I have to meet someone."

"Oh yeah?" Mike immediately looks intrigued. "Anyone special?"

I frown. Yeah, but not the way he's implying. "My kid brother's friend. She's here for some high school debate thing and I promised my mom I'd show her around."

"Is she hot?"

"She's in high school," I glare. " _And_ you have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, but... is she?"

" _No._ "

Not entirely accurate, but I'm not in the mood for Mike's jokes today. And, even if she _is_ , it's irrelevant, because she's also Shelly. Well, Elle—Elle that I'm under orders never to call Shelly again, even if I break that pledge a lot. Elle whom I've promised my mom I'd be nice to and keep an eye out for this weekend, as if she weren't the least help-wanting person I know. She's here with a bunch of other LA debaters and their coach, so I don't see why she'd need any help from me anyway, but Mom insisted. So—I'll give Elle a tour, she'll catch me up on school gossip, we'll send Mom a picture to prove it happened, and then we can both get on with our weekends.

* * *

I find Elle just where her message said she'd be, sitting outside the student center with a bunch of other highschool-looking kids that must be attending the same tournament. She smiles broadly when she sees me, waving to get my attention—as if I hadn't recognized that laugh of hers as soon as I entered the quad—and when I reach the group she instantly springs up and wraps her arms around me.

"You really missed me, huh?" I joke, confused by the display of affection. Shelly's usually more likely to greet me with a punch to the shoulder than a hug, but maybe it's true absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or in this case, maybe absence makes the brain forgive a few of the various grudges she holds against me.

"Of course!" Elle laughs, but there's something a little weird about her tone. "Guys, this is Noah. Noah, my fellow debate geeks. Alright, let's go!" Elle tugs my arm in the direction I just came from.

"Go?" I'd figured she'd want to hang out with her friends longer, but Elle seems intent on leaving.

"Yeah. To dinner, remember? I'm starving." She's giving me another oddly bright smile.

I have no idea what she's talking about, but that's nothing new.

"Uh, sure. Dinner." It's not even five yet and I have dinner plans of my own later, but I'm pretty sure the look on her face means _play along_.

"See you all tomorrow!" Elle tells the others as we walk away, and suddenly she's looping an arm around my waist as we walk. Do I mind? Not really. Do I have any idea why? Also no, but again—playing along for now. She's leaning into me enough that her ponytail brushes against my arm with every step she takes, and I can't remember the last time we were this close. Elle's always _around_ when I'm home, but usually we're glaring at each other from across a table or she's holed up in Lee's room; having her close enough to recognize her shampoo is a rare occurrence. Well, there was that one time last year when she tried to destroy my curtains, and a few movie nights this summer when she fell asleep next to me. She'd looked too cozy to disturb, and besides, Shelly's cute when she's asleep. I'm not really sure why that came to mind just now. Then again, I also still don't know why she's acting so weird, and that's the more pressing mystery.

I wait until we're out of earshot of her friends before stopping and turning to Elle with a quizzical look.

"Mind telling me what that was all about?"

"What what was all about?"

"We have dinner plans? Did Mom forget to tell me?"

Elle blushes. "Not really. I just... didn't want to go to dinner with the other debaters, but I didn't want to be rude. So... I told them I had plans with you. But we don't actually have to."

"And?" I can tell from her expression there's more she's not telling me.

"And what?"

"And... you're so afraid of getting lost on this big scary campus you decided to hold on to me for safety?"

Shelly's arm immediately pulls back from me and I'm a little sorry I said anything.

"Oh, that. I, um, I guess I'm so used to walking with Lee that it's just a reflex," she tells me with a nervous smile.

Now I _know_ there's something she's not telling me; never in her life has Elle confused me with Lee. I notice her eyes darting back to the student center steps, as if checking to see whether her friends can still see us.

" _Elle_." I stare at her, waiting her out.

"Okay... don't get mad."

Never a good sign. " _What_ am I not getting mad about?"

"I, um, may have mischaracterized, or, ah, intentionally overstated the precise nature of our relationship to some of those people."

"English, Elle."

"I may have implied we're dating."

I burst out laughing. "We're _dating_? You and I?"

"It's not funny!"

"It really kind of is, Shelly."

She's still glancing nervously back at her friends and I'm suddenly inspired to lean down and gently tuck a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, giving her a lingering look as my hand stays curved at the nape of her neck.

"Noah, what are you doing?" Elle looks mortified and I can tell she's torn between squirming away and keeping up the act.

"Well, you seem worried your friends are watching us, and apparently we're dating, so... I'm just gazing adoringly into my fake girlfriend's eyes, hoping she'll tell me what the hell's going on." I smirk.

"I should have known you were going to be an ass about this." Elle sighs, shaking my hand off.

"Look, I still don't know what _this_ is. Maybe if you told me..."

"Fine. That guy in the red hoodie... his name is Jamie. I've seen him at a bunch of tournaments, and he always follows me around, and then today he was on my flight and switched seats with someone just to be next to me, and he wouldn't stop talking to me, and he kept hinting about how his school has this big fall formal coming up..."

Yeah, I see where this is going. For all the times she's yelled at me to stay out of her love life, she's sure quick to drag me in when it's useful to her.

"And you couldn't just... tell this guy you're not interested?"

"I have to spend all weekend with him. And possibly be paired for some of the debate rounds. I didn't want things to be more awkward than they had to be. So... I just happened to mention how glad I was this tournament was at Harvard. So I could visit my boyfriend."

"I see. And now you need _me_ to play the role of said boyfriend?"

Elle nods sheepishly.

"No." I just... No.

"Please? Just for this weekend, and no one else will ever hear about it."

" _No_." There's no way this ends well.

"Oh, come on. It's not like I'm asking you to make out with me."

I can't help grinning. "So I get _no_ benefit from this arrangement?"

Elle blushes scarlet, but parries back quickly. "Would that change your answer?"

I pretend to think about it, then shake my head. "Nah."

"You are _impossible_."

"Look, Elle, why do you even need me to go along with this? You told this loser we're dating, he's seen us together, you're good."

"Wellllll..."

Of course—there's more she hadn't mentioned yet. There always is.

"There's a dinner tomorrow. For all the teams. And I kinda said you'd be there."

"And what if I already have plans tomorrow? Like, say, a real date? With a girl that might actually make out with me?"

" _Do_ you?"

"Not yet. But I could change that."

Elle's eyes flash angrily, then narrow again as she fixes me with a determined look before letting a single word drop.

"Mustang."

"What?"

"That nasty scrape on the Mustang. My memory of that day... it's getting clearer. Maybe it's _not_ a mystery how that could have happened."

"Wow, Shelly. Blackmail, really?"

She simply stares back at me, her gaze unblinking.

"Yeah, it's all coming back to me now," Elle muses, one finger slowly tapping against her lip. "Maybe it _wasn't_ some unknown jerk passing too close. Maybe... maybe _someone_ really sucks at parking. Maybe Lee never should have agreed to let _someone_ borrow his pride and joy."

I'd be madder if she didn't look so adorably pleased with herself. I'd missed dealing with her nonsense.

"So this is your deal, huh? I pretend to be your boyfriend because you're too chicken to tell a guy to get lost, or you make sure Lee kills me? Not that Lee's going to like _this_ either." I point out.

"Lee will never know about this. Lee _can't_ ever know. Seriously, Noah, it's just one dinner. An hour, tops, and then you can go back to your easily-impressed coeds or whatever your usual weekend plans are. No one but my debate friends will know, and after the weekend I'll say we broke up."

"Fine. One hour _and_ I get to call you Shelly the entire time."

Elle rolls her eyes, but I can tell she's hiding a smile. "Like you wouldn't anyway. Deal?"

I smirk at her and she seems to take that as the agreement it was. I could torture her longer before agreeing, but she's right, she's not asking much. And, as the last few minutes have reminded me, I have kind of missed Elle's particular brand of crazy—especially when it isn't paired with Lee.

"Alright, on to that campus tour Mom ordered me to provide, or should I skip the mossy old buildings and just show you to the nearest ice cream shop?" This time I'm the one who wraps an arm around her as we resume walking—her friends can probably still see us, after all—and I guess this isn't the worst way to start my weekend.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ _I originally planned to finish this whole story before I started posting it. But... then TKB2 came out and now I can't wait to share. So... let me know what you think, and please be patient with updates - it'll get done, especially if I know people are enjoying this :)_

_New chapters get posted to WattPad first - so join me there if you're extra impatient._


	2. It’s a Date

Harvard football has a home game this weekend, so instead of having to be up early to pile onto the team bus I get to enjoy my Saturday morning for once. Too bad my attempts to relax keep getting interrupted by entirely unrelaxing messages.

_You lied, man._

_?_

_About your brother's friend. Chris says she's hot. Can I have her number?_

Great. I should have known better than to invite Elle along to dinner with my friends last night, because Mike's is the third such request I've received. I guess I'd forgotten how quickly she can charm total strangers, because by dessert she'd gotten my friends to open up and share more about themselves than in the entire time we've been here. And now I'm back to the familiar challenge of discouraging Elle's suitors without getting in trouble with her.

Just because Elle has many times made it clear that I'm not to interfere in her dating life doesn't mean I have to _encourage_ it, especially not with these guys. But I did back off last year, as demanded. At least the next guy to ask her out after Tuppen wasn't a jackass, which made it easier to stay out of it. Okay, so from the way Ian used to startle any time I'd walk by while they were talking, I'm sure he was aware of the consequences of not treating Elle right, but I do also think he was a good guy. And, Lee approved of Ian, so I really had no excuse to scare him off. That doesn't mean I was a fan of watching them moon over each other in the cafeteria, though, so I'll admit I wasn't heartbroken by their eventual breakup. I did earn myself another furious lecture from Elle this summer, but that guy hitting on her at the beach was definitely bad news, and I have no regrets about _accidentally_ ruining their attempt at a date.

So, yeah, needing to discreetly deter Elle's unworthy admirers is nothing new. In this case, I figure it's enough to ignore my friends' messages. If they can't get her number on their own, that's just weak. And if they do manage to get in touch, she's only here for the weekend. I'm sure I can get in their way long enough to keep anything from happening.

* * *

Annoyance at my friends' brazen flirting aside, I enjoyed last night's dinner. It's not that I was unaware how fun Elle is, but she and Lee are so tight that it's hard not to feel like a spectator most of the time. For once getting to be the one making her laugh felt good. And when Lee's not around to distract her, I think Elle enjoys hanging out with me, too. Even after running out of Country Day gossip to pass on and mildly fictional tales of my high school days to tell my friends, she still kept right on talking, wanting to hear everything about my classes and football and what else I've been up to in the last two months.

I'd had plans to drop by a friend's party, but instead I ended up sitting on the steps of Elle's host's dorm for hours after dinner. I couldn't tell you what exactly we talked about, just that it felt like being back home. Around eleven the sophomore hosting Elle called to ask where she was, worried she'd disappeared, and that's when we realized how long we'd been sitting there. I waited with Elle until her host came downstairs to let her in, and as I was about to walk away Elle bounced up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.

"Don't forget dinner tomorrow, okay?"

It took me a confused second after she said it to understand, to remember what I'd agreed to earlier. Realizing why Elle had just kissed me was equal parts reassuring and oddly disappointing as I walked back to my dorm. I'm still not a fan of this scheme of hers, but at least it explains why Elle acted that way when I left. Because that's what she was doing— _acting_. The disappointment part doesn't really make sense, so I just don't think about it.

* * *

I have an hour left to kill before needing to be at the stadium when it occurs to me that showing up to cheer for Elle might get me forgiven for all that teasing I did last night about how nerdy debate is. She joined Country Day's team last year, after Lee started dating Rachel and no longer had twenty-three hours per day to dedicate to his better half, but go figure, it turns out Shelly and activities based on talking as fast as possible are a perfect match, and now she's the only one from Country Day to have qualified for this competition.

My timing turns out to be perfect, too, because Elle appears at one of the podiums just after I find myself a seat at the back of the lecture hall hosting the tournament. She's in a dark skirt and some kind of pale shirt under a blazer, her hair up rather than her usual ponytail or messy knot, and it's strange to see her so polished and serious. She looks so at ease, so confident, though, that I can't resist sneaking a few pictures of her. To send to my mom, I tell myself.

The guy paired against Elle is twice her size, and yet I swear he cringes every time she launches into a reply. She's good. Really, really good. And yeah, a little scary when she gets going—that guy's right to cower, because I'm pretty sure he's getting his ass handed to him. The judges must agree, because they need barely a minute after the round to declare her team the winners, and I can't help but add a loud whistle to the applause. Which is when Shelly's head snaps up, her startled eyes scanning the seats until she spots me, followed by a surprised grin.

I've got to wait another few minutes while the organizers wrap up the morning's session and tell everyone when and where to come back for the next round, but eventually they're done and I see Elle heading my way. She greets me with a quick hug, and I'm not sure if this one is for show or genuine. I don't mind either way.

"Noah? What are you doing here?"

"Had some time to kill. Figured I'd send Mom some pictures of you in action."

"Pictures of me and my fellow meganerds, you mean?"

"Look, Shelly, I really am sorry. And also basically terrified of your whole nerd posse now, because it shouldn't be possible for humans to speak that fast."

"Whatever," Elle laughs. "Come back for the finals, then you'll really be scared."

"Maybe I will."

"Wow—what happened to all those exciting weekend plans you claimed I'd be keeping you from? Did all your makeout girls leave you on read?" Elle snarks.

I don't get a chance to reply before a bunch of the other debaters interrupt us. I'm not sure if these are the teammates Elle wants believing we're dating, so I rest my hand at the small of her back as she talks to them. That's probably ambiguous enough, and Elle doesn't seem to object. I do have to get going soon if I don't want to be late to warm-ups, though, so after a few minutes I pull Elle aside.

"Do you still need me to go to that dinner?"

"Yeah, if you can. I mean, you don't have to, but my friends want to meet you. But if you have other plans —" Elle suddenly looks awkward.

"Don't worry about it. The easily-impressed coeds can wait a little," I tease. "I've got to run, but send me the location and I'll meet you there."

"It's a date," Elle smiles. "I mean—you know what I mean."

"A fake date I was blackmailed into by my fictional girlfriend?"

"Yeah, that," Elle laughs. "And thanks, by the way. Jamie hasn't stalked me at all today."

"You're welcome."

And since her friends are nearby, I may as well pull her in for a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away.

* * *

Our opponent today isn't exactly an athletic powerhouse, and we're far enough ahead at the half that Coach rests the starting quarterback and lets me finish the game. It's the most playing time I've gotten yet and bodes well for next year, when Jack'll have graduated. We're all in great moods by the time we finish crushing Lafayette.

"Drinks at Border Cafe to celebrate?" Griff, another freshman on the team, asks.

"Maybe one round. I've got dinner plans."

"Oh yeah? Your brother's hot friend again?"

Great. Apparently the guys at dinner last night have continued to run their mouths and tales of Elle have reached my teammates.

"None of your business."

"So that's a yes, clearly. Max says he can get us into a Spee party tonight—you should bring her. I need to meet this girl."

"You absolutely don't." And Elle absolutely doesn't need to be anywhere near a finals club. "Besides, there's zero chance your sorry ass is getting into that party."

"Whatever. Fine, keep her to yourself, just tell us stories later."

I slam my locker shut, and hopefully Griff takes it as the warning it was intended. I've managed to stay out of fights so far, but he's pushing it. Drinks with the guys no longer sounds appealing, so after flipping Griff off for good measure I just exit the locker room. I can catch up on reading or something until it's time for dinner.

* * *

It occurs to me as I walk into the restaurant that I have no idea what Elle's told her friends about our alleged relationship; I'm not sure if there's some kind of backstory I need to be careful not to contradict. I'd ask her, but there's already a big group sitting with her, so I guess I'll just wing it. They've all changed out of those serious suits they'd worn for the competition, and Elle's back to the Elle I know, in jeans and a brightly-colored sweater she probably found at that thrift shop she and Lee love. She looks cute, even if saying so seems like a bad idea given how weird this all is already.

Elle's saved a seat for me next to her, but while she's busy arguing about today's competition I end up talking to Lane, the girl seated on my other side.

"So you went to Country Day, too? Like Elle?"

Looks I really will have to wing it, but that question's easy enough to answer. "Yeah, graduated last year."

"So that's where you met?"

_That_ question makes me laugh. "No—she's my brother's best friend. We've known each other forever."

"You're Lee's brother?" Lane looks puzzled.

"Yeah." Guess she's met Lee, then. Should have figured, given how inseparable he and Elle are. I'm surprised Rachel hasn't complained yet, but... that's Lee's problem to deal with.

"Oh. Weird that he never mentioned."

Crap. See, this is why Elle should have given me a playbook for this fake boyfriend gig.

"Lee's not my biggest fan. He likes to pretend I don't exist." That's an easy explanation to come up with, because it's the truth.

Lane grimaces. "Must be awkward for you and Elle."

Yes. _Extremely_ awkward. Or would be, if we were actually dating. Which is why we're not. Well, one of many reasons.

"He'll get over it eventually," I shrug. That's the nice thing about a fictional relationship, you can pretend the impossible.

It looks like Jamie hasn't given up hope yet, because after grabbing the seat opposite Elle he's been trying to talk to her all through dinner. Which is how my arm ends up stretched across the back of her chair, and then, when that fails to discourage him, why my arm drops to her waist. Definitely no other reason. Now Jamie's glaring at me, and I don't bother to hide my smirk.

I lean in to Elle so only she can hear. "You didn't mention this Jamie kid can't take a hint. I thought you said he wasn't stalking you today?"

Elle laughs. "This _is_ him being less creepy. Now you see why I was having trouble getting him to back off, right?"

"Yeah, well, let me know if I should have a conversation with him. Alone."

"A conversation with your fists?" Elle asks, an eyebrow raised. "Yeah, no. Your dad's mad enough about Lee getting detention because I convinced him we needed a skip day, I don't need to be blamed for more Flynn delinquency."

"Fun killer."

Elle returns my smirk, and I really had missed these moments.

"Anyway, I think Jamie's finally getting the message. He just started talking to Selena and I swear he's batting his eyes at her."

Which I guess is good, but I keep my arm where it is just in case. Elle doesn't seem to mind, and when she leans back against me I have to remind myself why she's doing it. Why I'm doing this. It's not like the thought of us together hasn't crossed my mind, not like I've never wondered if there's something we're both deliberately ignoring, it's just always been clear how risky that idea is. But at least this crazy scheme of Elle's isn't turning out as badly as I feared. Things haven't turned awkward, and we haven't even gotten into an argument, which must be a record for us.

But of course I spoke too soon.

As we're finishing up and settling the bill I'm busy answering another debater's questions about Harvard, which is how I almost miss what Elle and her friends are talking about. I start paying attention once I hear them mention the Spee club, though. It seems one of Elle's teammates has gotten herself invited to that party Griff was talking about. Herself, _and_ her friends, including Elle. Which is a problem, so I pull her aside as we're leaving the restaurant.

"You're not going to that party, Elle."

Elle laughs, then rolls her eyes. "Oh, memories. I had _so_ missed these conversations with you."

"Elle, seriously. Those guys are a bunch of assholes."

"And now is the part of the conversation when I tell you to butt out. Come on, it's not like I'm going alone, there'll be a bunch of us."

"Yeah, a bunch of high schoolers. And I'm sure it's a coincidence it's only the girls who've been told about this party."

"Right, and _now_ is when I ignore you. And anyway, the guys are coming with us—you just heard them."

"And your friends won't think it's weird you're going to this party without your boyfriend? You know, the boyfriend they just all had dinner with?"

"I'll tell them we broke up. Immediately after dinner. Because of how meddlesome he is."

"Yeah, well, he's about to get more meddlesome. If you're going to that party, I'm going."

"No, you're _not_ , Noah. Anyway, I also promised my host we'd hang out tonight. So maybe I won't even go to the party, if Kara doesn't want to. Maybe we'll... watch a movie, instead."

"Good. Because you're not going to that party."

"Yeah, you said that already. You do know we're not actually dating, right? What I do tonight is none of your business."

Like that's stopped me before? I don't need to be dating Shelly to not want her in over her head at a college party filled with jackasses. But now she's riled up, so whatever I say is just going to make her more determined. So... I just won't say anything.

"You're right, none of my business. Enjoy that movie, Shelly. You do have my number in your phone for when you need rescuing, right?"

" _Good night_ , Noah." Elle sounds distinctly annoyed as she watches me walk away.


	3. No-Fun Noah

_**Previously:**_ _I don't need to be dating Shelly to not want her in over her head at a college party filled with jackasses. But now she's riled up, so whatever I say is just going to make her more determined. So... I just won't say anything._

_"You're right, none of my business. Enjoy that movie, Shelly. You do have my number in your phone for when you need rescuing, right?"_

_"_ Good night _, Noah." Elle sounds distinctly annoyed as she watches me walk away._

* * *

Shelly looks even more annoyed a couple hours later when she spots me sitting outside the Spee house. Those jeans and sweater she'd been wearing at dinner have been replaced by a short skirt and a clingy top—I'm pretty sure she's not headed to the movies.

"So now _you're_ stalking me?" Elle accuses.

"You mean keeping you out of trouble? Yeah."

"I told you to mind your own business, Noah."

"And I told _you_ to stay away from this party."

"I'm not alone. Kara's here, and some guys she knows, and my debate friends. I'll be fine."

"Sounds like a big group. Guess there's room for one more, then."

"I don't need a babysitter!"

" _Babysitting_ would be hauling you out of here. _This_ is just keeping you from doing anything stupid that I get blamed for."

"You didn't invite me here, you made your disapproval clear, I promise not to blame you. Now, will you please leave me alone?"

"And yet, I'm still the one our parents will blame if anything happens. So no, I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

I mostly keep my distance as Elle and her friends hang out and dance, but when a guy I know—a guy I know and have no particular trust in—tries to chat his way into their circle, I decide to relocate myself nearby. The fact that I bump his shoulder as I walk by is completely coincidental and accidental, and I definitely feel extremely remorseful when I see him walk away to mop up the drink he spilled down his shirt. Remorseful and, fine, a little bit amused.

Elle, however, is not at all amused as she grabs my arm and yanks me into the next room, away from her friends.

"Really? You're playing this game again?"

Okay, so maybe this isn't the first time I've deployed that move against some knucklehead talking to Elle at a party.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I smirk.

"Noah, that guy was nice, and you scared him off!"

I really doubt that guy was _nice_ , given where his eyes were glued the entire time they talked, but sure.

"Just one of my many fake-boyfriend services. Was this _not_ the favor you begged for yesterday?"

"I asked you to scare off _Jamie_. Not every guy within a five-mile radius."

"You really should have been more specific. Keep that in mind next time you blackmail me."

" _ARGH_. One day I really am going to beat you with a shoe."

"You keep saying that, and yet here we are."

Elle huffs in frustration. "Okay, new rule. If you refuse to leave, at least do your glaring from five yards away. And no more _accidental_ walk-bys."

"Or, what—you tell Lee about the Mustang? It's already fixed, you know, and I'm not actually scared of Lee."

"Or I spend Thanksgiving dinner raving about all the _awesome_ parties you got me into this weekend and how _totally_ wasted I was."

I'm not scared of Lee, but I am afraid of Elle's dad. Not to mention my mom.

"Low blow, Shelly. Fine. Five yards, but try to stop talking to losers."

I do back off after that... mostly. I'm still watching out, still keeping an eye on who's around her, so when I see she's found herself a drink I cross the room and snatch it from her before she can take a second sip.

"Noah—that's mine!"

Shelly practically stomps in annoyance as she says it and I have to keep myself from laughing at her indignant expression. The last thing I need tonight are drunken Elle antics, though, so when she tries to grab the cup back I drain it in one shot. And it's a damn good thing I did, because from the burn I'm guessing the drink was more Everclear than anything else.

"Who the hell mixed this, Shell?"

"I don't know—those guys over there."

"Yeah, well, if you're dumb enough to take mystery drinks from strangers, I'm not leaving you alone again."

She starts to snap back, then just rolls her eyes. Good, maybe she's not in total denial about what an idiot she was being.

"So now what? You tag along like my personal buzzkill until I give up and leave the party?"

"Pretty much."

"Can I at least hang out with my friends?"

"Sure. _With me_. Conveniently, they all think we're dating."

"I hate you."

"I'm used to it. This is the deal, Elle, take it or leave it—if you're staying, I'm staying."

"I'm deleting my Harvard application the second I get home, you realize. I don't need another three years of this."

"Go ahead; neither do I."

I hadn't even known Harvard was on her list, and despite what I've just said I feel a weird pang of disappointment that she was considering being around next year and now doesn't want to be.

We glare at each other another minute and this time I'm the first to relent. "Come on, Shelly, you know my mom will kill me if anything happens to you while you're here. I'm not trying to ruin your night, I'm just... watching out for you."

"Fine. Whatever. But no more stealing my drinks and driving away any boy I talk to."

"Stop accepting open drinks from strangers and I'll stop saving you from yourself, sure." I don't acknowledge her second request, which I have no intention of honoring.

* * *

As mad as Elle was, we do end up having a good time once she gives up trying to ditch me. Her host Kara is a lot of fun, as are her friends. Well, except the one that keeps finding excuses to touch Elle, which is why I go from simply sitting next to her to keeping an arm around her. That's what I tell myself, at least. I'm definitely not enjoying having her tucked against me for the second time today, and I'm definitely not once again thinking about those movie nights this summer when she'd fall asleep next to me on the couch. Anyway, it's not like she's objecting either, so, just like at dinner, I tell myself not to overthink this.

"Shit!" Elle spots something, or rather someone, over my shoulder. "That's Jamie. Ugh, I can't believe someone let him into this party."

And maybe it's that ridiculously strong drink I took away from Elle hitting me, maybe it's her frustration with Jamie, maybe it's the way Kara's friend keeps staring at her, maybe it's... something else entirely, but somehow, in this moment, kissing Elle seems like the reasonable thing to do. That was the point of this fake dating thing, right? To get Jamie to leave her alone? So I'm just... making sure he gets the message. Him and every other unworthy male in this room.

Not that I actually spend much time thinking through my brilliant plan before dipping my lips to Elle's, and maybe I should have.

Because she kisses me back. Without hesitation, fiercely, eagerly. Instantly I forget the audience I thought I was doing this for, forget all the reasons this is a bad idea, forget all the ways this could end terribly, forget everything other than the way Elle's fingers are weaving through my hair as she pulls me closer, the softness of her lips, the faint sigh she lets slip before deepening the kiss. She tastes like the hard lemonade she settled for after I kept stealing her stronger drinks, and my only thought as she climbs onto my lap is _damn_.

And then, much too soon, it's over. All of a sudden, Elle pulls away and scrambles up off the couch, and the rush of cool air where just a second ago she'd been pressed against me jolts me from my daze. She's staring at me, her expression unreadable, and a moment later she's dashing away and I'm having trouble keeping up as she darts between party guests. I finally catch up to her outside, but as soon as she sees me she turns as if to keep running.

"Elle, wait—please."

"What the hell, Noah?" Her eyes flash furiously in the dim light of the building's entrance.

"You said Jamie showed up. I just—I mean, that was the point of you dragging me into this right? To discourage him?"

"Me _dragging_ you into this? You invited yourself to this party. And I never asked you to—to _maul_ me."

"Maul, really? Shelly, it was just a kiss."

Just a kiss intended for show until _she_ took it further. Just a kiss that she seemed equally into, at least at first. Not that I'm complaining, except now it seems I'm the bad guy.

"Yeah, well, you were right—this was a terrible idea. And now that you've thoroughly discouraged both Jamie _and_ that cute guy I was talking to, consider your part of this arrangement complete."

"You mean that guy leering at you for the last half hour? The one that kept offering to get you more drinks? Yeah, he was real _cute_."

"Are we seriously doing this again? You don't get to decide who I date, Noah."

"But _you_ apparently get to decide _we_ 're dating. When it's convenient to you."

"Oh, please. I asked you to come to dinner and not contradict anyone who thought we were dating. _Not_ to stalk me all night and then kiss me."

_You didn't seem to mind when you were climbing into my lap and kissing me back—_ but I know better than to say it.

"Whatever, Shelly. I did you that favor you begged for, and now we're done. So go get drunk with random strangers, hit on your cute creeper, whatever. I've got better things to do."

And with that I turn and walk away. Shelly's brilliant scheme went exactly as well as I expected, and now I remember why none of those moments between us last year ever led anywhere. Because we always end up at each other's throats, and not in the fun way.

I wait for her to yell back, to tell me again how this is all my fault, but she doesn't, and after a few yards I can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder. She's still standing there, her fists at her hips and that familiar look of fury on her face, and then she shakes her head and goes back into the party.

There are other parties I could go to. There are girls I could call. But I've had enough bullshit for the day and what I want is to be alone. Alone, with distraction from whatever this mess is. And while getting drunk would do the trick, I've got no interest in spending tomorrow hungover. The weight room's always open, and this time of night there shouldn't be anyone around to complain about how loud or how angry my music is.

* * *

I'm done changing and about to head out of my dorm when message alerts flash across my screen. From Elle, _of course_. I could just ignore her, could just wait until tomorrow to see what she wants to yell at me for now, but I open the messages anyway.

_hey_

_so this is awkward, but... one more teensy favor to ask_

_now what?_

_so, Kara thinks we're dating_

_because of your genius plan. And?_

_welllllll..._

_she asked if she could invite her boyfriend over, since clearly I wasn't planning on staying with her tonight._

Of course. Because this wouldn't be an Elle scheme if it didn't go completely sideways. I know what's coming, I know why she's calling, but I'm going to make her say it; I don't reply and just let Elle twist. Finally I see her start to type again.

_Can I crash with you?_

_Man, you move fast when you fake-date_

_NOAH_

_come on. Please. I'll sleep on the floor, I'll stay out of your way, I'll owe you big time._

_And you can't just tell Kara the truth?_

_She's kind of already gone._

_please?_

I don't really have a choice. I'm not about to make Elle sleep in some dorm's lounge or crash with strangers, and Mom would kill me if she found out I didn't help Elle. Well, she might also kill me if she finds out about Elle sleeping over. It's complicated.

_Your debts are adding up. But fine._

_thank you thank you thank you_

_I'll be right over_

So, looks like my plans to work out and distract myself from that kiss aren't happening. I'm sure having Elle in my room will really help with _not_ thinking about any of this. This weekend just keeps getting better.


	4. Peace Offerings and Logistics

Twenty minutes later, just as I'm starting to worry Elle got lost, she calls to let me know she's outside my dorm, and when I go let her in she's holding a bag from the campus convenience store.

"Peace offering?" Elle asks, lifting a carton of ice cream from the bag.

"You know that only works on Lee, right?"

"Says the guy who always steals our ice cream? And I even got plain chocolate, just for you."

"Worried you'd find yourself without a place to sleep if you brought mint chip marshmallow?" I'm pretty sure the reason Elle and Lee load up the freezer at home with weird ice cream is so I won't touch it.

"Yeah, kind of," Elle smiles sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry I overreacted earlier, and I owe you an apology. You're right, I'm the one who asked you to pretend we're dating, I can't get mad that you... I mean, obviously that's why you kissed me, because of this stupid thing I talked you into." Elle's staring at the ice cream carton rather than looking at me, her thumb nervously swiping at the condensation. "And I'm sorry for making this mess even worse by not telling Kara the truth. I guess she hadn't noticed you'd left, and I kind of froze when she asked if it was okay to invite her boyfriend, and I wasn't really thinking about the fact I don't have anywhere else to sleep, and I know I've ruined your whole Saturday night now, with that dinner and the party and now this, so I just figured, you know, maybe ice cream —"

The words are spilling out of Elle increasingly fast, her expression more and more ill at ease, and finally I manage to interrupt by squeezing her shoulder. "Elle, hey, relax. It's fine. And I'm the one who decided to follow you to that party. Besides, I've missed having to rescue you from your own bad decisions. Feels like being back home," I can't help adding with a laugh.

Elle glares at me, but she's smiling a little too. "Yeah, well, you're welcome."

I wonder if I should say anything more, if maybe we should actually talk about that kiss. She's right about why I kissed her, but our stupid agreement doesn't explain why she kissed me back. Or why I made no attempt to stop her. But maybe it's better we _not_ talk about it more, that we leave things at that convenient, incomplete excuse.

So, we do—we say nothing else and just walk upstairs to my room. Thankfully, my roommates are all gone for the weekend or still out—there are four of us with singles connected to a common room—as I don't feel like trying to explain who Elle is or why she's here. Hopefully they'll all sleep late tomorrow and this sleepover can fly entirely under the radar.

Showing Elle around the suite and finding spoons for the ice cream takes all of five minutes, and then things get awkward again as I try to figure out how I'm supposed to entertain her now. I can't just ignore her, can I? Suggesting a movie seems... way too date-like. Finally I remember that video games always make her happy, even if that means having to hang out in my room. The weirdness of the situation fades after a while, and it's fun, hanging out like this again. Never tell Lee, but I do miss the two of them—sometimes. Briefly.

"So, have you decided why we're breaking up?" I ask after Elle defeats me for the third time in a row. The last one, I let her win because I was laughing too hard at her ridiculous trash talking.

Elle's head snaps up, her expression startled.

"What you're telling your debate friends. About the tragic end of our extremely non-fictional relationship."

"Oh, right. Of course." Elle blushes. "I mean, I guess I can say I found another girl's stuff in your room, so I broke up with you."

" _No_." I immediately veto.

"No?" Elle looks bewildered by the vehemence of my reaction. I kind of am too.

"No. Find a different story."

"Why? That one's simple, and then they'll feel bad and not ask too many questions."

"And I get to be the jerk that cheated? No."

"It's not like anyone will know. I mean, not anyone _you_ know."

"I don't care. I played along with this to be nice to you, so pick a story that doesn't make me a total ass."

"Why do you even care?"

"Because I wouldn't." And I know it shouldn't matter, that it's just a meaningless lie to wrap up this stupid charade, but it bothers me anyway.

There's an awkward silence as Elle continues to look at me with confusion.

"I mean... is that really what you think of me? That if I had a girlfriend back home I'd be cheating on her?"

"No," Elle replies after another pause. "I know you wouldn't." Her tone is soft, but before I can think about what that means she laughs and continues. "I mean, who'd believe you have a girlfriend at all, right?" She laughs.

Right. Clearly not Elle, and I'm not sure why that stings as much as it does. After all, she's right. I've got a reputation, a reputation I've put a lot of effort into, and it's just how I like it. Or so I've always thought.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Elle adds after a moment, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't think you'd care what I told my friends, and I just figured that's a common-enough story. It wasn't anything to do with you."

There's something about the way she's looking at me, and I'm still not sure why I got so mad in the first place. "Don't worry about it. I don't actually care—tell your friends whatever you want."

It's only partly true. I don't care what anyone else thinks, especially about something that's not even real, but I do care what Elle thinks.

Another awkward silence ensues, and I'm grateful for the distraction when Elle's phone rings.

"Lee, hey."

Okay, maybe not so grateful after all. I assume Elle hasn't told Lee anything about any of this, and I'd rather keep it that way, because if you think Elle always finds a way to blame me, wait until you meet Lee. I motion to Elle that I'm going to step into the common room, and she looks relieved as she nods. Yeah, she definitely hasn't told Lee.

I go shower and brush my teeth while Elle is on the phone, and after that I clear off the couch in the common room. It's not exactly comfortable, but I've slept on worse.

"Lee wanted to facetime. I had to lie and tell him the connection was too weak," Elle laughs when I walk back into my room.

"What, we're not telling him about this sleepover?" I smirk at her. "Come on, you know Lee would want to be the first to know."

"Yeah, so he could kill me."

Elle looks uneasy, and we're in that weird space again where I can't tell if we're being serious or sarcastic.

"Anyway, you and Lee can talk all night if you want, I was just coming in to grab my phone."

"Are you going out?" Elle looks confused.

"No. But some of us aren't operating on Pacific time, so I was going to get to sleep."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I should probably sleep, too. With the tournament tomorrow and all. Is it okay if I borrow a pillow? That couch looked a little scary."

Elle is standing up and stuffing her things back into her purse, and I realize we haven't actually addressed the logistics of this bizarre sleepover.

"You're welcome to a pillow, but I'm taking the couch. You're staying in here."

"What? I'm not kicking you out of your room. I was kidding about the couch looking scary, I'll be fine."

"And then you'll explain to my roommates why there's a stranger asleep in their suite when they get back and find you here?"

"Are you telling me they're _not_ used to random girls spending the night?"

She's doing it again, that thing where I can't tell if she's joking or serious. I go with joking because it seems safer.

"I don't make those girls sleep on the couch, no."

"Yeah, well, I'm not those girls."

For so many reasons. Including the fact that _those girls_ are mostly fictional.

"The couch is mine, Elle."

"The couch is tiny and so am I. _And_ you're the one doing me a favor, so quit being ridiculous." Elle has grabbed her phone and purse, but I'm standing in front of my door, blocking her attempt to leave. I'm not sure why everything has to turn into an argument when it's the two of us.

"The point of you staying here was for you to _not_ have to sleep with strangers around."

"They're not strangers, they're your roommates. Send them a message, tell them your brother's friend is a dumbass and you had to let me crash here."

She's got a point, and it's not like I don't trust my roommates, but... I don't know. It still bothers me.

Elle takes advantage of my hesitation to slip past me and into the common room. I watch from my door as she flops down on the couch and determinedly stretches out across it. And then I laugh as she winces.

"Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it? Now will you drop this and just take the bed?"

"No, now I _really_ can't make you sleep here."

I'm this close to saying we can figure out a way to share the bed, except it's the typical dorm twin and there really isn't a way. At least, not any way that wouldn't be profoundly weird and probably dangerous. Dangerous or thrilling—it's a fine line, and not something I want to think about right now. Anyway, Elle clearly agrees sharing's not an option, because she hasn't suggested it either.

Elle sits up, scanning the rest of the common room, and then her eyes light up.

"Does that unfold?"

She's pointing to the chair my roommate Sanj bought last week. Last week, when his friend visited. Because the chair does, in fact, fold out, something my dumb ass apparently forgot. Problem solved, and I cross the room and sit myself on the chair.

"Totally forgot we have this. There, now no one has to sleep on the couch."

"Noah, I'm still not kicking you out of your room!"

"And I'm still not letting you sleep around strangers."

Elle rolls her eyes. "We literally just discussed this. They're not strangers, they're your roommates."

She stares at me, then stands up from the couch with a resolute look.

"Up. Off the chair," she commands, yanking at my arm when I don't move to comply.

"Final answer, Elle. You're not staying in here."

"Yeah, fine, whatever, but neither are you. _Move_."

As soon as I'm off the chair Elle shoves it in the direction of my door. I always forget how freakishly strong she is when she's determined to get her way. She's got the damn thing in my room before I have time to object, pushing my desk chair to the side to clear enough space.

"There. The chair is still mine, but I am now safe from your allegedly scary roommates. Happy?"

It's clear from the look on her face this is the best compromise I'm going to get. I guess this works, and I'm not going to complain about being spared that couch. And now for the strangest sleepover ever.

* * *

_**A/N: Yep, seems like the perfect place to end this chapter.** _


	5. Rude Awakening

It's 2 a.m. and that going to sleep plan is not going well. Just for me, though—I'm pretty sure Elle's been asleep for a while, given the soft, slow rhythm of her breathing. The fact that I'm listening to her breathe might have something to do with my own inability to sleep. Okay, it has everything to do with it.

I'd told myself letting Elle crash here wouldn't be too weird—she's slept over at my house a thousand times, right? But that was when I was planning to sleep on the couch. Elle sleeping just a few feet away from me is definitely not something I'm used to. Sleeping just a few feet away, wearing my clothes. _That_ detail is particularly difficult to ignore, but what choice did I have when she asked for something to sleep in? So, now I've also got the memories of last year to deal with. Last year, when the vision of Elle in my bed, in my jersey and not nearly enough else, took months to learn to forget.

The list of things I'd rather not think about right now is getting long and yet somehow I'm managing to think about all of them at once. Elle, asleep in my bed last year. Those brief moments that morning when it seemed we might be on the brink of something. A scattering of other moments like that in the following year—almosts, maybes, ambiguities we never acknowledged. And now, Elle asleep in my room again, this time with me in it. That kiss tonight that I'm fairly sure _was_ something, despite our apparent decision to pretend it was nothing. Yeah, there are a lot of reasons I'm having trouble falling asleep.

I'm not an idiot—I'm aware that I'm attracted to Elle. Aware that if she were anyone else, I'd give this a shot. Would already have, long ago. It's just... she _isn't_ just anyone. She's Lee's best friend, my mom practically considers her a daughter, and she's... important to me, even if we're always yelling at each other. She's off-limits for a lot of reasons and this weekend changes none of them.

The good news is that it's been a lot easier to ignore that attraction since leaving for college, so I just need to keep myself from doing anything stupid in the very short time she's here. Really, just tonight, and then Elle goes back to her tournament and eventually back to LA. And besides, whatever that was at the party, Elle seems to regret it. Another reason to get through this awkward sleepover and then pretend this weekend never happened. Solid plan, definitely not destined to fail. But it's the best I've got.

* * *

I must have succeeded in falling asleep at some point, because the next thing I know, I'm waking to the creaking sound of my door opening. I crack an eye just enough to see Elle step out into the common room, and I figure she's headed for the bathroom. Minutes later, as I'm nearly back to sleep, the door creaks again, but this time it's followed by a muffled thud, a crashing noise, a yelp from Elle, and then a groan from me as she lands elbow-first on my chest.

"Shit—I just—I think I tripped on something. Are you okay? Did I wake you?" Her wide-eyed look tells me she's as startled as I am.

"Did you _wake_ me? No, I'm sure this is a dream. About getting attacked by a really clumsy burglar."

"Crap, did I hurt you? I am so sorry, I am such a klutz. I didn't want to wake you by using my phone light, but then I think my foot caught your desk chair and —"

Even in the dim light I can tell how flustered Elle is as she scrambles to get up off of my bed. So flustered she manages to elbow me in the ribs _again_ in the process, and I wrap a steadying arm around her just to avoid further harm.

"I'm fine, Elle. You know, usually when girls jump into my bed, they're not trying to injure me."

I'd hoped to make her laugh, but her expression darkens instead.

"Yeah, well, sorry again for ruining your weekend. I'll be out of here in the morning and you can give those girls a call then."

"Elle—it was a joke. A really dumb joke. I'm totally fine, and you didn't ruin my weekend."

Elle shrugs, avoiding my eyes, and again she moves as if to get up from the bed.

And I don't know if I'd call it a moment of clarity or the exact opposite, but that's when I kiss her. Again. And this time I've got no audience, no excuse. No reason beyond the fact that she's on my bed, in my shirt, her hair a wild mess, and all that's making it really damn difficult to remember any of those reasons not to do this.

There's an agonizingly long moment—a second that feels like an eternity—when Elle doesn't react. She doesn't kiss me back, she doesn't push me away, she's just still, and maybe I was wrong about our earlier kiss meaning something. But then, just as I pull away, I see a grin flash across her face as she reaches for me. One hand curls at my shoulder as she kisses me, the other cradling my cheek, and my last halfway-rational thought is relief. Because as terrible an idea as this might be, in this moment I've never wanted anything more.

I'd be lying if I said I've never thought about kissing Elle. Never wondered what it might be like, never been tempted to find out, never had a hunch she might wonder too. But even if my imagination has explored this topic on occasion, the reality is different. Not in a good or a bad way— _definitely_ not in a bad way—just so fundamentally different that comparison is pointless. Because I'd never imagined it like this. Because I'd assumed kissing her would be like kissing other girls. A hell of a lot of fun, sure, but—not this. Nothing like this.

Which is a problem, because I'm walking a fine line trying to hold on to any kind of restraint. Elle's in my bed, her legs tantalizingly bare against mine, wearing not much more than my own shirt, and all that makes it rather hard to remember this is just our second time kissing—and that's if I count the one we pretended meant nothing. Elle's not helping matters either, because she's the one steadily escalating, meeting my every move with a bolder one. My brain is functioning just enough to tell me we need to slow this down before spinning out of control, but I keep bargaining with it for just one more minute.

In the end it's Elle who calls a halt, her hands stilling and her kisses slowing to a last lingering one before she lays her head on my shoulder. I need a moment before I can think straight, before I can start to figure out what to say. We have to talk, but I don't want to, not yet. Because I'm pretty sure that once we talk this will be over, and I'm not ready yet. So maybe staying quiet and hoping Elle says something first is the cowardly option, but I do it anyway to steal a little more time before facing reality. An extra few minutes with Elle's warm weight across my chest, her hand still idly playing with my hair, as I listen to her breathe and wonder how I'm going to make myself forget this.

I hadn't realized until Elle showed up how much I missed her. Hadn't realized until right now how I wished we hadn't squandered all those moments last year. Because maybe, with some time, with being in the same place, maybe dating Elle wouldn't have been the disaster I'd always told myself it would be, if we'd actually given it a try. But we let those moments pass us by and now it really is impossible.

I mean, Monday she'll be back in LA, and next year she'll probably be at Berkeley, the way she and Lee never stop talking about. And while I rarely object to casual fun, that's not possible with Elle. We can't just fool around and walk away before feelings are on the line, because there's nowhere to walk away to. She'll be there when I go home for Thanksgiving, she'll be there at Christmas, she'll be there basically forever. And it's probably too late to avoid feelings getting in the way, anyway. _What_ those feelings are isn't clear, but I can't pretend we've ever been indifferent to each other. So, there's no way anything with Elle could ever be casual.

But it's not like trying to make this something real is an option either. Again, the distance—my experience with relationships may be limited, but I'm pretty sure being in the same place is considered helpful. Elle deserves someone who'll be there at lunch every day to let her steal his chips, not to sit around hoping for a phone call. I've watched friends here struggle to hold on to high school relationships, and I've seen way too many go up in flames. And those were couples who'd been together for ages—trying to _start_ a relationship long-distance based on one weekend of banter and some making out is beyond doomed. Sure, rather outstanding making out, but that's not going to make the distance any easier. And, if casually hooking up risks making family lunches really awkward, I don't want to imagine the aftermath of an _actual_ relationship going bad. No matter how it ended, every member of our families would hate me for breaking Elle's heart, myself included.

So, this can't be just for fun and it definitely can't be for real, which means it can't be anything at all. Even if right now, with Elle still curled against me, with my arms still wrapped around her, it's tempting to stay in denial. It's too bad it didn't occur to me earlier—like, say, last year—to kiss Elle to discourage her admirers, instead of threatening them. But it didn't, and now we're here, and one of us really needs to break this silence at some point.

And then, just as I'm struggling for what to say and how to say it, an angry beeping startles us both. I mutter a curse as I extend an arm to smack at the snooze button, and the screeching stops. But it's obvious the moment is over.

Elle sits up, my arms reluctantly releasing her. "Do you need to get up?" She's not looking at me as she asks it.

"No, just forgot to turn my weekday alarm off." I was kinda distracted last night, what with the unexpected sleepover.

Elle turns to look at the alarm clock, then squints at it in confusion. "It's only six? Since when do _you_ get up early?"

"Since practices started happening before class, not after."

"That better be a football thing or a Harvard thing, and not a universal college thing. Or I need to disappoint some coaches."

Apparently Elle's decided to ignore what just happened and go back to cracking jokes. I can't blame her. I mean, we have to talk, but maybe... once we're up and dressed and have had some coffee. A lot of coffee. Also, a lot of clothes, because Elle needs to be a lot less distracting for this conversation to happen.

"I'm sure they'll adjust their practice schedules as soon as they discover how cranky you are this early."

Elle punches my shoulder, glaring. See? Cranky. At least she finally stands up, allowing me to get up too.

"It's probably good that alarm went off, anyway," Elle sighs. "I need to get back to Kara's and get ready."

"At six? You think she's awake?"

Elle's face falls. "Ugh, you're right. I guess I'll send a message and wait until she's seen it."

I throw jeans and a hoodie over what I slept in, then grab my wallet. "How about I go get us coffees and something to eat while you get ready, and then I'll walk you to Kara's dorm? Or, I guess we'll find somewhere to hang out until she texts you back." The sooner we're both fully dressed and not awkwardly standing around my bedroom, the better.

When I return, Elle's changed back into her clothes from last night, but she's also wearing one of my sweaters.

"Do you mind if I borrow this? It looks cold out, and walking across campus this early in my party outfit just seems... embarrassing." Elle trails off.

I'm not sure wearing what is very obviously a guy's sweater is all that much less incriminating, but that seems unchivalrous to point out. And anyway, I'm not done burning the image of Elle in another shirt of mine into my brain for posterity. Which is a bad thing to be doing given the conversation we need to have, but oh well.

"Anything from Kara?"

"Not yet. I thought about calling, but it seems rude to wake her up this early."

_Rude_ could also describe assuming the student you're supposed to be hosting plans to sleep elsewhere, but Kara isn't what we need to talk about right now. And maybe I should just rip the bandaid off now, before it gets even harder.

"Look, Elle—what happened earlier... "

Elle stops me with a squeeze to my arm. "I don't want to talk about it. Not right now. I know we have to, but can't we just... wait a minute? Maybe drink those coffees?"

She looks incredibly uneasy, and I know it takes a lot for Elle to _not_ want to talk. I guess reality can wait a little longer.

"Sure, breakfast first. You're in luck, the dining hall had just opened when I got there."

"Is that blueberry?" Elle's eyes light up when I pull a muffin from the bag I'm holding, and apparently I made the right choice from the limited options available this early.

"This muffin, you mean?" I ask, taking a large bite, and Elle's reaction is as indignant as I'd hoped. "Relax, there's another one in that bag. You think I have a death wish?"

The scowl I receive in response is only slightly less homicidal than before. We're good at this part, the banter. And apparently we're good at the making out part, too. Too bad neither of those are helpful right now.

Elle perches on a corner of my desk as she sips at her coffee and starts unwrapping her muffin. I swear my room keeps getting smaller the longer she's here. Probably because that collection of things we're ignoring keeps growing, so a change of scenery might be in order.

"Hey, before you start eating that—I know a place one can enjoy breakfast with a nicer view."

"You _know a place_? Really?" Elle laughs, and I'm glad my attempt to ease the awkwardness worked.

"You're not afraid of heights, spiders, or being yelled at by campus police, right?

"Well, now I'm definitely interested."


	6. Promise

"So when you said you _knew a place_... you meant a storage closet? Yeah, I definitely see the appeal." Elle comments skeptically as I open an unmarked door down the hall from my suite.

"Patience, Shelly."

The room we've just entered is long and narrow, filled with surplus dressers and bookcases, and the door at the other end is hard to see. Hard to see, and very often unlocked. The custodians know, and they know we know, but our unspoken bargain is that they'll keep forgetting to lock it so long as no one does anything stupid up on the roof. Because that's what's behind that door—a steep, cobwebby stairway to the roof.

"You weren't kidding about the spiders," Elle complains.

"They're friendly, trust me."

"This door's not going to lock behind us, is it?" Elle sounds concerned as we reach the top of the stairs and exit onto the roof.

"That's what this cinder block is for."

"And being up here is cool with campus police?"

"Nope. So try to stay away from the edges where someone could see you."

"Awesome. Getting caught trespassing will really impress the admissions committee."

"It's fine, Elle. I come up here all the time."

"Oh, I see. And do you bring all the girls up here, or just the ones you're trying to get arrested?" Her tone is joking but her eyes are harder to read.

"I bring nobody up here." Except Elle, but that seems unnecessary to point out.

Elle doesn't reply, and for a few minutes we eat our breakfasts in silence. There are still orange and pink traces of the sunrise in the distance, and while the setting isn't as impressive as my favorite hideout back home, it offers similar solitude.

Elle finishes her muffin, then carefully folds its wrapper into tinier and tinier shapes before finally breaking the silence.

"We can't do this. I mean, what happened earlier—it can't happen again."

And there it is, that landmine we've been stepping around.

"Probably not. It was fun, though."

I immediately regret trying to lighten the mood, but Elle laughs as she blushes. And when she looks up again, she's actually looking me in the eye for the first time since my alarm went off.

"Yeah, it was." There's a sly smile playing at her lips, but then her expression turns resolute. "But I'm serious, Noah. This can't happen."

She's saying exactly what I've been telling myself since she crash-landed into my bed—actually, since the party—but hearing _her_ say it makes me want to disagree, to argue we can, just out of stubbornness. And maybe not just stubbornness, but some foolish delusion, too, that there's some way this isn't impossible. But she's right.

Elle seems to be waiting for me to say something, but when I don't, she goes on, looking uneasy again. "I know it's just how you operate, but it's not how _I_ operate. Especially not with —"

"How I _operate_? What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean." Elle gestures vaguely, her eyes avoiding mine again. "Meaningless hooking up."

"Elle, I wasn't— it wasn't like that. That's not why —" I trail off, realizing I have no idea what I'm trying to say. It wasn't meaningless. But it also can't be meaningful, because it can't happen. And nothing about this weekend has been how I _operate_ , but there's no good way to say that.

"It's fine, Noah. I mean, we both wanted to, obviously. I wasn't trying to blame you or anything... but we can't. It's just—we just can't. It'd be a disaster waiting to happen."

"Probably." I should be relieved Elle agrees with me, relieved that being on the same page about this will hopefully make things less awkward, but hearing her say it doesn't actually help.

"It's just, there's no way this works. Lee would never forgive me."

Fuck—I'm an idiot. _Of course_ this is about Lee, and I should have known because it always is, to her. I've been telling myself why getting involved with Elle would be a disaster for _us_ , would be unfair to _her_ , but apparently I was worrying about the wrong person. The problem here isn't the distance, or Elle being too important to risk losing—no, in Elle's mind, the problem is Lee's precious feelings. _Lee_ wouldn't like this, and therefore this can't happen.

I'm tempted to ask Elle what _she_ wants, but I already know the answer. She wants Lee. Not romantically, that's been obvious forever, but in every other way, and she's always going to put their friendship above anything and everything else—including whatever this is. If Elle thinks Lee would be upset about this, it doesn't matter what I think.

And maybe the silver lining is that this makes it easier to accept how things need to be. I don't need to waste energy wondering if I'm wrong about how terrible an idea this is, if maybe there _is_ something between us worth the risk, because now I've been reminded there's no point. I should be grateful Elle's giving me an easy way out, but I don't feel it.

"Yeah. I get it. It's a bad idea." I finally answer.

Elle looks relieved. "And you won't tell Lee?"

Tell Lee he remains the single star at the center of Elle's universe, despite my brief delusion I might matter too? I mean, he'd love to hear it, but no, I won't be telling him.

"Yeah. No worries."

Drinking the last of my coffee seems like a good excuse to look away, to have something to do in this uncomfortable silence, but I discover it's gone cold and bitter. The hilarious symbolism isn't helpful at all.

"But we're okay, right?" Now Elle's shredding the muffin wrapper, her eyes yet again fixed on anything but me. "I don't want things to be... weird. I mean, I didn't mean I— regret anything, or that I didn't want to, just —"

"It's fine, Elle. I knew what you meant. It was fun but it doesn't make sense and we'd be better off forgetting it happened. Sound about right?"

Elle gives me an uncertain look before faintly nodding. "Yeah, basically."

"So we're in agreement then. Which means, no weirdness. Promise." I give Elle a smile, and I nearly believe myself.

Elle hesitantly smiles back, and I guess this conversation could have gone a lot worse. It's still painfully awkward, though, so I'm glad to hear Elle's phone ding.

"Kara?" I ask, as Elle reads the message.

"Yeah, finally. She says she's up and to come by whenever."

"Good. Come on, I'll walk you over."

"So you can take your sweater back?"

Elle's back to cracking jokes, I see. I can't say I blame her.

"Well, if you want to keep it for the weekend, you can drop it off at my house when you get home. Just, you know, not when Lee is watching. Or my mom."

Elle blushes as she laughs in response. "Yeah, no, your mom's on the never-needs-to-know list, too."

"Definitely," I can't help chuckling. I'd be in for an epic lecture if Mom ever did find out, although, to be honest, I'm not sure if she'd be more upset about the making out or the agreement not to do it again.

Elle stumbles on the stairs as we leave the roof, and I quickly grab her waist to keep her from falling. And then immediately drop my hands away, because all of a sudden things are weird again. Maybe it's a good thing we've got a whole month to move past all this before I go home for Thanksgiving. Step one, get Elle back to Kara's. Step two, return Sanj's chair to the common room before anyone asks questions I don't feel like answering. Step three... I'll need to think about that.

* * *

I manage to keep myself busy catching up on assignments and hanging out with friends until early afternoon, when I catch sight of the time and realize the debate competition must be close to wrapping up. Elle _did_ say I should come back for the finals, even if that was probably a joke. Of course, that was before everything else happened, and given how awkward this morning was, I'm not sure she wants me showing up to distract her. But Elle's also never been one to fall at my feet, so assuming I'd be a distraction is probably foolish arrogance—or maybe wishful thinking. Besides, showing up would reassure us both this doesn't need to be weird. Unless of course things _are_ weird, and showing up just proves it.

There's no easy answer, so I go with what I want and stop thinking about whether it's a good idea. Which is to say that I'm in the audience when Elle takes the stage for the final round, and she hardly has to scan the crowd before spotting me. Maybe she expected I'd show up, because there's no surprise this time, just a quick wink. At least she's not mad I'm here.

Watching Elle crush her competition is always fun, but seeing her so confident and so eloquent drives home how unlike herself she was this morning. Maybe there's more we should have talked about, more I should have said. I hate that Elle believes this weekend was normal behavior for me, just _how I operate_ , as she'd put it. Even if my reputation were fully accurate—and I have no one but myself to blame for encouraging the exaggerations—does she really think I'd be that careless when it comes to her?

Then again, Elle wasn't actually curious about my motivations; she was too busy worrying what _Lee_ would think of all this. And, yeah, she's right, he'd hate this. He'd pitch a fit, he'd blame me, he'd guilt Elle hard, and she'd inevitably end up ditching me for him. So, maybe it's better we skip that drama and go straight to the part where she picks him over me. Besides, Elle and I agree nothing can happen between us, so it's no point sulking over why she thinks that. And maybe the fact that Elle cares more what Lee might think than what _I_ actually think is a sign there's nothing here worth taking risks for. Maybe. But I definitely need to quit brooding about this if I want to live up to that promise things aren't going to be weird between us.

Elle's team ends up placing second and she wins an individual award, beaming as she collects her trophy. Funny to think she only got involved in debate because she was sick of third-wheeling Lee and Rachel—I guess that ridiculous kissing booth worked out for everybody, so maybe I can stop feeling bad about skipping out on the carnival. There's one more award presentation to sit through after Elle's, and once everything is over I hang back, watching Elle as she chatters with friends and shows off her trophy. I've already sent my mom the video I took of Elle accepting her award, but I sneak another picture of Elle with her friends while I wait. It's not like I'll need photographic evidence to remember this weekend, but I want to anyway.

Elle seems to have finally run out of people she wants to talk to and hug goodbye, and I see her check her phone before grabbing her bag. Now she's wearing a suspicious expression as she makes her way to me.

"Why did your mom just congratulate me?"

Ah. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be sending updates home?

"Because she's proud of you. You know you're her favorite, right?"

" _Noah._ "

"Yes, Shelly?" It's good to have routines to fall back on when we're trying to ignore something.

"You knew exactly what I meant. Why does June know I won?"

"You think I'd miss a chance to earn brownie points by keeping her updated on you?"

Elle rolls her eyes. "And have you also told my dad, or do I at least get to tell _him_?"

"No, and I didn't tell Lee, either. So you can brag to him too."

"Like your mom hasn't already?" Suddenly, Elle looks panicked. "Wait, if Lee finds out from her, he'll know you told her. He'll know... "

"Yeah, he'll know that I stopped by your tournament. Which isn't actually weird. Unless you think I told my mom about a lot more than that trophy you're holding, and I _promise_ that is not the case."

Elle laughs, looking a little embarrassed. "You're right. Sorry, I was being paranoid."

Most of the other debaters have left the auditorium now, and I see a couple of Elle's teammates waiting for her by the doors, watching us.

"Hey—do you, uh, want to come to dinner with us?" Elle asks hesitantly.

"Because you haven't yet told your friends we've broken up?"

Elle shakes her head. "No. I mean, I haven't said anything yet, but that wasn't why I was asking. I just figured—it'd be fun."

Would it, though? Maybe it'd be fun to hang out one last time before she's gone, but I also don't need more reasons to miss her. And as entertaining as pretending to be her boyfriend was yesterday, it doesn't sound at all appealing now. Besides, I can't, so no need to find an excuse to say no.

"I can't, I'm sorry. It's a friend's birthday, and a bunch of us are going to dinner."

"Oh well. I'm glad you came by, though."

"Me too. You're terrifying up there, you know that? But I guess years of having to talk my brother out of his idiot plans trained you well."

Elle snorts. "That, and all the arguing with his even more stubborn brother."

"You're very welcome." I smirk, then quickly dodge the punch she aims at my shoulder.

"Alright, well, I guess I've got to go. You're coming home for Thanksgiving, right?

"Mom made it clear that was mandatory. So I'll see you then?"

"Definitely. So, ah... take care." Elle finishes awkwardly.

"Yeah, you too."

Elle seems to be hesitating, and for a second, when her eyes flick up to meet mine and then dart away again, I think she's about to kiss me. Or maybe I wonder if I should. Not _kiss_ her, but—on the cheek, maybe. I honestly can't remember what I would have done before this weekend. But before I can make any sense of my confusion, Elle wraps me in the briefest of hugs before quickly walking off to catch up to her friends.

We're really going to need to work on that "not weird" thing.

* * *

I run into my roommate Eric on the way to dinner, and he greets me with a grin.

"So who was the girl?"

"What girl?"

"This morning, in your room. I heard you two leaving."

So much for our sleepover staying under the radar.

"Long story."

"I have time." Eric smirks.

"Wipe that look off your face. My kid brother's friend was on campus and needed a place to crash."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

Eric frowns. "Well, that's disappointing."

And yeah, it kind of is.

* * *

_**A/N: Please don't kill me. And we're not done yet, promise.** _


	7. Thanksgiving

"So do we need to grab a cab, or are your parents picking us up?" Sanj asks as we make our way through LAX. His parents are out of the country visiting relatives, so Mom invited him home with me for Thanksgiving.

"My brother's coming. He just said he's almost here." Playing airport chauffeur was probably an order from Mom rather than Lee's idea, but I'm looking forward to putting the top down in the Mustang and enjoying some sun for the first time in weeks. And, I'm just a little curious whether Lee's usual copilot will be along for the ride.

The passenger seat is disappointingly empty when Lee pulls up, though. I guess I shouldn't be surprised—if Elle were tagging along, she'd have told me, but I haven't heard from her today. Or yesterday, come to think of it. A few months ago that wouldn't have been unusual, but ever since her visit we've kept in touch. We don't mention what happened and our messages stay casual, but it's definitely a change. A change I like, because the motley collection of memes Elle sends, with occasional mentions of what she's up to, always make me laugh. We never call, though, and that's probably a good thing. It's one thing joking over text, but actually hearing her might make it harder not to dwell on that weekend.

As it turns out, I don't hear from Elle at all today, not even after letting her know we've reached the house. I do overhear Lee on the phone with her, asking whether Rachel's picking her up, but when I later _casually_ ask whether Rachel is coming over, Lee says she's going to the movies with Elle and Duncan. Which... huh. Elle has never mentioned a friend by that name, and there weren't any Duncans at school last year. I could ask Lee, but I don't. His lectures about butting out of Elle's love life have never been as outraged as hers, but it would still be a bad start to my visit home.

Being home is a little weird. Some moments I forget I was ever gone, and other times it's hard to believe it's only been three months. My room is exactly as I left it, with one exception: I find that sweater I'd lent Elle under my pillows, neatly folded. I thank her for it, but that message goes unanswered, too.

Elle is still absent from my inbox the next morning, and when she and her family show up for Thanksgiving lunch she seems quieter than usual and quickly disappears into Lee's room. I don't see her again until we sit down to eat, but maybe I was just imagining things earlier—soon enough she and Lee are at their usual nonsense and her laugh is as sparkling as ever. She spends most of the meal talking to Lee or my cousin Erin, but she must be paying _some_ attention to me, because she jumps in as I'm telling Mike how busy this week was.

"Did you ever get that paper finished?"

"Of course. Submitted it from the plane." The first draft of my history term paper was due yesterday, and it's possible I've complained about it to Elle a time or ten in the past week.

"And where exactly was the plane by then?" Elle asks suspiciously.

"Landing in LA," I admit with a grin.

Elle shakes her head at me. "Procrastinator."

"Man, is Mom paying you to nag both of us now?" Lee interrupts with a laugh.

I see a brief flash of panic in Elle's eyes, but she quickly recovers.

"Nope. Just making sure Noah doesn't ruin Country Day's reputation before my application gets read. And you know she's never had to pay me to nag you... I boss you around because I love it," Elle snarks back, sticking her tongue out at Lee.

So, Elle didn't delete her Harvard application after all. File that one under interesting news I don't hate. I'm curious where else she's applying, but she's busy talking to Erin again and I've got Sanj to entertain. Elle and I will have to catch up later, but I'm glad she sounds like her usual self. I was definitely reading too much into the lack of messages—she was busy, that's all.

We make it to dessert before things take a turn for the awkward. After ignoring me for most of the meal, Lee has decided it's time to harass me, a family meal ritual I had actually kind of missed.

"So, Noah, have you ghosted all the Harvard women already or are a few still speaking to you?"

I roll my eyes at Lee, but Sanj replies before I can.

"Ha, this guy? He's too busy with his new girlfriend."

"My _what_?" I turn to face Sanj, confused.

"You thought we hadn't noticed?" Sanj laughs. "Come on, you never want to hang out anymore and you're always texting. We're just wondering who it is."

"Yeah, because that's the only reason not to go out. Definitely not because I have work to do or early morning practices to be up for."

"And is that also why you're always smiling at your phone when we do drag you out? Come on, admit it, there's a girl."

I'm looking for a discreet way to tell Sanj to shut it when Elle abruptly leaves the table. Great. She's probably worried that Lee's going to start asking questions.

I spot my mom reaching for the empty water pitcher, and before she can pick it up I grab it and stand up.

"I'll go refill this. Sit, you don't need to get up."

"Sure. Aren't you the considerate son?" There's a gleam in Mom's eye, but I'm not sure if it's directed at me and my unsubtle excuse to chase after Elle, or Lee for not offering to help.

I find Elle in the kitchen, and I'm glad to finally get to talk to her alone.

"Hey. You needed an escape, too?" I meant it as a joke, but Elle's eyes narrow.

"Sorry, did I miss any more great stories? Did Sanj get that girl's name out of you finally?"

"He just thinks he's being funny."

"He is. Hilarious, even. You should text your girlfriend about it."

Elle's tone is biting, and that's when I realize she's taking Sanj seriously. And maybe her reaction shouldn't thrill me, but it does. I'm sure it's not helpful in the long run, but seeing Elle jealous? I rather like it.

"You're right, I should. She's going to love this. Do you mind if I... ?" I gesture to my phone.

Ouch. The look Elle shoots me is scathing, and maybe I'm pushing this too far. Only one way to find out.

I tap at my phone as Elle loudly rummages through the refrigerator, angrily slamming containers around as she pretends to look for something.

_Sanj isn't completely wrong_

I hit _send_ , then wait. Elle must have her phone silenced because I hear nothing, but instead I see her startle, then reach into her pocket with an annoyed look that turns confused once she sees the message.

"Wrong about what?"

"About that girl I'm always texting."

"Noah, I literally could not care less about whoever this girl is." Elle's tone could cut glass and this is possibly the densest I have ever seen her act. Maybe I should try this in writing.

_You, dumbass_

Elle frowns when her phone buzzes again, but this time I see understanding hit her as she reads my message, then blushes a deep crimson.

"Sanj thinks _we_ 're dating?"

"Apparently."

"But... we're not."

"Well, no. But he's right there's a girl always distracting me."

"Sorry." Elle's chewing at her lip, not looking at me.

"Don't be."

And I know what we agreed—what _I_ said I wanted—but... damn, it's tempting to kiss her. She's wearing a dress I recognize from my graduation party and it clings to her just as intriguingly as it did that night. Of course, the reason I remember it is another of those missed opportunities I've been regretting lately.

I'd found Elle off on her own outside, and when I'd jokingly asked why she wasn't with Lee toasting to my imminent disappearance, she'd shocked me by suddenly wrapping me in a tight hug and telling me she'd miss me. The way she'd said it, looking at me with this strange intensity... I'd reflexively pulled back, just to try to understand, but I don't think that's how Elle took it. Her arms released me, and she took a stumbling step away—which is when I realized she was somewhere between tipsy and drunk. I walked her back to the house and told Lee to keep her away from the drinks, and that was the last I saw of her that night. We never mentioned it afterward, and now I wish we had.

I shake my head to ditch the memory, but that just brings my attention back to now. Now, when Elle keeps nervously biting at her lip, her eyes avoiding mine, and I'm having a hard time ignoring the facts that I know exactly what it would feel like to kiss her and that I very much want to.

And from the expression on her face when she finally looks at me, I think Elle might be equally tempted. She's leaning against the opposite counter, and it would take all of two steps to close the distance between us. Which is the worst and most appealing idea I've had in... well, probably since the last time I was around Elle. But I hesitate, and those few seconds cost us the moment.

Or, maybe those few seconds save us—because it's Lee whose arrival in the kitchen interrupts our standoff, and I'm pretty sure Lee walking in on the kiss I'd been trying not to imagine would have been a disaster. And, that's on top of all the reasons why kissing Elle would be a bad idea even without Lee finding out. So, Lee's interruption is probably for the best, even if right now I'd really like to fling him off the balcony.

Thankfully, Lee seems utterly unaware of what he's walked into, or almost walked in on, informing me that Mom also wants us to bring more ice cream out. Elle quickly busies herself finding the ice cream, and then she and Lee head back to the table while I finally get around to refilling the water pitcher. I'd almost forgotten about it, and returning to the table empty-handed would have been an interesting one to explain.

As we finish eating, I catch Elle watching me several times. Of course, the reason I catch her is that I'm sneaking looks at her, too. We need to talk, but I'm not sure what it is we need to say. It's not like anything we said last month has changed—she still lives on the other side of the country, there's still no way this ends well, and Lee continues to exist. But maybe we should just clear the air and acknowledge things are weird.

The thing is, they weren't weird before I came home. Before we were alone together for way too short and yet dangerously too long a time. So maybe talking _wouldn't_ help. Maybe we should keep our distance, ignore the weirdness until I'm back in Boston, and then things will go back to normal.

Except I'm not sure what normal _is_ for us anymore.

* * *


	8. Just Curious

Every year most of the family sticks around after Thanksgiving lunch to watch the Cowboys game, and every year Elle and Lee declare football stupid and go watch a movie instead. This year's no exception, except I'm not paying much attention to the game. Instead, I'm puzzling over the Shelly situation. We need to talk—that's clear. I'm not sure what should be said, but I know we need to talk. Preferably, not while surrounded by our families. Is there a non-awkward way to say _Hey, want to go hang out alone, a thing you and I never do, except that one recent time that we really need to talk about?_

It occurs to me that things weren't weird before I got home, before we had to deal with each other in person. So, maybe the answer is to go back to what was working for us then. I retrieve my phone from my pocket and scroll down to _Sweater Thief_. I should probably rename her now that the sweater's been returned, but I haven't found a worthy replacement yet.

_So how's your Thanksgiving going?_

Elle sees my message immediately, but there's a pause before she starts typing back.

_Eh. Same jerks we always celebrate with. You?_

_Better now that my brother and his incredibly annoying friend have disappeared._

_Can't believe they wouldn't want to stay in your delightful presence._

_I know. Their loss._

_I'm sure they're sobbing._

_Are you going to let me enjoy my movie now?_

_Let me guess - Lee is making you watch the Grinch._

_Lee's not making me do anything. After Thanksgiving means Christmas season, and Christmas season means the Grinch. Everyone knows that._

_And shouldn't you be watching football? Did you finally realize it sucks?_

_It's a noble game with a storied history, Shelly. But yeah, the game is boring._

_You could come up here and watch the Grinch._

_Or I could do this._

_Which is?_

_Bug you._

_So now I need to entertain you?_

_Yes. And you've been slacking - how am I supposed to keep up with what the internet thinks is funny without your daily updates?_

There. Is that a sufficiently casual way to ask why she went silent right before I got back to town?

There's a long pause, and then a deluge of memes sent in rapid succession.

_Better?_

_Much. Now my day is complete._

Which isn't a joke. It's not like Elle and I were usually texting about anything important this past month, but I'd grown used to her messages brightening my day.

I'm debating what to say next when Sanj elbows me.

"So how's that secret girlfriend?" He sounds far too amused as he tips his head at my phone, and my glare only makes him laugh more.

"Still as nonexistent as I said before."

"Except you didn't. You never actually denied it," Sanj grins.

"Fine. I'm denying it now. There is no secret girlfriend."

Which is completely accurate. Girl I talk to and have complicated feelings about, yes. Secret girlfriend, no.

"Whatever. Tell her I say hi. And that I want to meet her once we're back on campus."

I roll my eyes at Sanj, which seems like a safer response than telling him he's already met the girl I'm texting, and that she's here, not in Boston.

Which brings me back to the original problem. Elle lives here, not in Boston. And as fun as it is joking around on text as if we weren't in the same house right now, we should talk—actually talk, in person—before we're on different coasts again. I could offer to drive her home tonight, assuming her dad and brother don't stay as late as does. Or, maybe tomorrow I could stop by her house, since Lee mentioned he's spending the day with Rachel. Or... I could just go upstairs right now and ask if she wants to hang out. That would be the simple, logical option, but given how paranoid Elle seems about Lee catching wind of anything at all, I don't think she'd appreciate it. So, back to hoping she needs a ride home later.

* * *

Lee comes clattering down the stairs to the living room just as the game is ending, Elle trailing less obnoxiously behind him.

"Hey Mom, no problem if friends come over to swim, right?" Lee tosses over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought, as he and Elle head for the kitchen.

"Tonight?" Mom replies, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. We were planning to meet up at the arcade, but we just realized they're closed today—so I invited everyone here instead."

I pretend to be engrossed in my phone to hide my smirk at the way Mom's eyebrows just climbed. Apparently Lee isn't so much _asking_ if he can invite friends over as announcing he's already done it.

"Exactly how many is _everyone_?" Mom asks.

"Rachel, Ollie, Duncan, Miles. And Elle, of course."

Oh hey, my favorite mystery friend.

"Oh, just the usual crew? You know they're always welcome."

So whoever this Duncan is, he's part of a _usual crew_ I've heard nothing about.

"You guys want to hang out, too?" Lee asks, looking at me and Sanj.

I do and I don't, for reasons all involving Elle, but it doesn't matter because Sanj enthusiastically agrees before I get a chance to say anything. And maybe this impromptu pool party is for the best. If it turns out Elle and this Duncan guy are more than just friends, then I know where Elle and _I_ stand—nowhere. Which means there's not actually anything to talk about, so we can skip the awkward conversation. And if they're not, well, then I'm back to figuring out where to go from here.

* * *

The good news is that Duncan turns out to be a short scrawny blonde kid with a dorky haircut; the bad news is that I hate him on sight. Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a little. Maybe he's actually Lee's height and maybe his hair is basically normal. And maybe by _scrawny_ I just mean I'm confident I could flatten him. Which I shouldn't. At least not until he gives me a better excuse than his face being extremely punchable. Which is probably also an irrational exaggeration on my part. But I wasn't lying about the blonde part. He actually _is_ blonde. And headed straight at me after greeting Lee at the door, so I guess we're about to meet.

"You're Noah, right?"

Clearly a friend of Lee and Elle's if he's calling me that.

"Flynn, actually. And you're... ?" He doesn't need to know I've already figured out who he is.

"Duncan. We played against each other last year—I was at Westlake."

"You play football?" If I sound surprised it's because I am.

"Kind of."

"Duncan plays real football," Elle interjects, having suddenly appeared at his shoulder. She's eyeing me warily.

"Elle means I play soccer," Duncan laughs. His laugh is just as punchable as his face. "But I was also the football team's kicker."

I'm nearly certain Country Day crushed Westlake last year. Good.

"But then Duncan transferred and now he knows better than to associate with football players. Anyway, you _have_ to come see this video Lee found," Elle informs Duncan, one hand firmly gripping his arm as she pulls him away.

I wasn't exactly getting a romantic vibe from the two of them, but I also don't love the way Elle rushed to separate us. Verdict: unclear.

An hour later, I'm still not sure what to make of Duncan. The six of them are all close friends, that's obvious, but I don't know that I'd say Elle's acting any differently with him than with Lee. Well, except for the part where she keeps watching me any time I'm talking to him. Which I haven't had to do too much of, thankfully. I also haven't gotten to do much talking to Elle, but here and now probably aren't the time or place to attempt that conversation. So, instead I'm... observing. Making plans for the rest of the weekend with Sanj, catching up on school gossip from Rachel, but discreetly watching Elle all the while. She may not be paying particular attention to Duncan, but she's definitely avoiding _me_ , which is its own problem.

Eventually I give in and just ask Lee. "So what's the deal with them?" Elle and Ollie are currently crushing Miles and Duncan at some kind of pool basketball game involving an annoying amount of Elle trying to wrestle the ball away from Duncan.

"Them who?"

"Elle and the new kid." I have some questions about Ollie and Miles, too, but those are lower priority.

"Wow, that was fast," Lee laughs. "You know, we've all managed to live our lives just fine without you here to supervise. Especially Elle."

I'm not fond of the way Lee stressed _especially_. "Just curious."

"Yeah, I bet," Lee rolls his eyes. "Look, no need to go into caveman mode, Duncan's a good guy. And besides, you're too late to scare him off."

"They're dating?" I try to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Nah, but they were. The first month of school or so."

"And now?"

"You know none of this is any of your business, right?"

"Spare me the lecture. Look, you clearly all hang out a lot. I'm just curious."

"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

"Spare me the Inigo Montoya, too."

"I see your sense of humor has really blossomed at college. Anyway, I already told you, they're not dating. They did for like a minute, and now they're just friends."

 _Just friends_ —sure. I've been watching them, and I'd put the odds of Duncan not still being interested somewhere between zero and less than zero. But Lee's right that it's none of my business, especially as far as Lee knows. I'm curious about the timeline, and maybe that's slightly more my business. But Lee said it was the first month of school, which means it was over before Elle visited. Which makes sense, because if she'd been dating Duncan, she'd just have told her debate stalker that, instead of recruiting me for the job. So, back to being none of my business. It's just weird this is the first I've heard of the guy.

A couple hours later I finally get Elle to myself. Ollie and Miles left early to go see a movie—again, I have a lot of questions about those two, but they can wait; Lee and Rachel are busy staring moonily at each other on a pool float; and Sanj unknowingly helps me out by drawing Duncan into a heated argument about some anime series. Which leaves Elle sitting by herself, another deck lounger conveniently free beside her.

"Your friend's scary intense about anime." Elle comments as I sit down next to her.

"So's yours."

"Duncan? Yeah, he's obsessed. And I hope Sanj is capable of letting things go, or they're going to be at it all night. Duncan _cannot_ walk away from an argument."

Wow, Duncan sounds charming—I can definitely see what Elle saw in him. But probably not the right thing to say out loud. I'm not actually sure _what_ to say out loud, so I'm glad when Elle speaks up again.

"Sanj seems cool, though. That was his chair I slept on, right?"

"Yeah. But don't worry, he has no idea that was you, he's not going to start telling Lee any stories."

"Well, that's a relief." Elle gives me a tentative smile, then looks away again. "Listen, I wanted to apologize. For being kinda weird today, and not really talking this week."

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

"It's not. We said we weren't going to let this be weird, and I guess I was worried how it would be seeing you. But I probably _made_ things weird by avoiding you."

"Really, Elle, it's fine. And Sanj didn't help things by telling everyone about my imaginary girlfriend."

" _I_ didn't help things by stomping off."

"Somehow I doubt anyone thought your disappearance had anything to do with me."

I'm stretching the truth a little. I don't doubt my mom had suspicions, but probably less because Elle left and more because I ran after her.

"I wasn't mad about you having a girlfriend, you know—just you not telling me. I thought we were friends."

Pretty sure that first part is a lie. At least, I really hope so.

"There was nothing to tell."

"Yeah, I realize that now."

"I mean, it's not like you told me about Duncan."

Elle's head snaps up and she looks furious. Shit, that was probably another comment better left unspoken.

"I see you've been doing your usual meddling. I should have known," Elle mutters, shaking her head.

"Elle—I just meant you and Lee have this whole new friend I've never heard about."

" _Really_?" Elle gives me a hard stare. "That's _all_ you meant?"

Lying's probably not the right move here.

"I mean, yeah, Lee also mentioned you guys dated. And I'll admit I was... curious. But I wasn't trying to meddle, I swear."

"Who I date is none of your business."

Except maybe I'd like it to be. But now is definitely not a good time to bring that up.

"Elle, it's like you just said a minute ago. We're friends—we shouldn't be weird about this stuff."

And yet clearly we're way beyond weird and well into painfully awkward, but again, that's a topic best saved for when Elle isn't furious at me. Speaking of, she's still staring dubiously at me.

"Look, next time I'll ask you, not Lee. But I wasn't trying to meddle, okay? I really was just curious."

Elle looks like she's thinking about saying something, then blows out a long breath. "Fine," she finally says. "We were both being stupid. So let's stop doing that."

"Agreed. No more stupid."

I'm glad to see Elle return my smile. We've done enough talking for today, but maybe tomorrow we should have that conversation we've been dodging. Assuming I can keep myself from saying anything dumb to make her mad again.

"So, Lee mentioned he and Rachel are driving down to San Diego tomorrow. Maybe you and I could hang out?"

Elle seems confused. "Don't you have plans with Sanj?"

"He'll be fine."

"Noah, you can't ditch your friend for me."

Sanj sees me every day back on campus. I'm pretty sure he'll forgive me, especially if I explain who it is I've been texting this past month.

"Don't worry about it."

"We said we're good—you don't need to prove things aren't weird. Anyway, I'm busy tomorrow."

"All day?"

"Kind of, yeah." Elle's avoiding my eyes. "I promised Brad I'd take him go-karting, and I've got all this homework for next week, plus Dad wants me to help him power-wash the deck..." Elle trails off.

Homework and power-washing the deck—yeah, I can tell when Elle's scrounging for excuses.

"Sounds like a full day. I guess we'll have to catch up some other time," I respond flatly.

Elle looks relieved.

"I'm glad we talked, though," she adds with a cautious smile. "And I'm sorry I accused you of meddling. You're right, it's weird I'd never mentioned Duncan. But it's not like you and I were keeping in touch back when I dated him, and later, when we _were_ , I don't know, I wasn't sure what there was to say. Next time, I won't be weird about it."

"Next time?"

Elle shrugs awkwardly. "The next time I date someone."

Which is... not at all where I was hoping to go with this conversation. Alright, maybe while Elle is busy with all those extremely important tasks tomorrow I can come up with a new plan.


	9. Dean Vu

It's Sanj's first time in LA, so we spend most of Friday hitting up the same landmarks I've toured a dozen times with other visitors. Not that I'm complaining, because the boredom leaves me with a lot of thinking time. I can't decide what to make of my conversation with Elle last night. Her words said one thing, but her eyes, her tone, her body language—I don't think she was telling me the whole story.

Or, maybe I'm in denial because I want there to be more to the story. Maybe Elle really was friend-zoning me and I need to accept that. That's certainly what it feels like today. I've sent her a couple messages half-seriously inviting her along to various stops on Sanj's tourist adventure, and each time she's had some vague, unconvincing reason why she can't. Finally I dropped the pretexts and asked if we could hang out tomorrow, flat-out told her it'd be good to catch up. She let that message sit on read a painfully long time before replying _I just don't think I can_. Which... what does that even mean? Can't, or doesn't want to? The only clear part of her answer is that I need to drop this.

So, that's what I'm doing. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow, but right now my goal is not to think about Elle at all. Late afternoon I hear from a football camp friend that he's throwing a party, and that sounds like just the thing to distract myself. Loud music, drinks, and a crowd of mostly strangers—perfect. Plus, Sanj has plans with a cousin who lives nearby, so I don't need to worry about him—even better.

Until, of course, Elle shows up. _Of course._ When I first catch a glimpse of her I tell myself it can't be, tell myself I've clearly spent too much of the last few days puzzling over her if I'm hallucinating her now. But, ten minutes later, there she is again, and this time I've got to admit she's for real. I haven't had remotely enough to tell myself this is just drunken imagination, and there's no mistaking that laugh or that grin. Unfortunately, Elle's grin disappears as soon as she spots me. There's no way to pretend I haven't recognized her too, and at least she spares me trying to decide what to do by making the decision for us, walking over to me with an uncertain expression on her face.

"What are you doing here, Noah? Stalking me at parties again?" She doesn't sound mad, just puzzled. Actually, she might even look pleased to see me, but maybe that's me kidding myself again.

"What am _I_ doing here? I'm hanging out with some friends. What are _you_ doing here?" Normally, one appeal of Ryan's parties is a distinct lack of Country Day classmates and a break from those dramas.

"You're friends with Anna? Since when?" Elle asks, sounding surprised.

"No, I'm friends with Ryan. Who's Anna?"

"Ryan's sister. One of my debate friends."

"Ah. Well, Ryan didn't mention that when he invited me and the other guys from football camp."

Elle laughs a little, then gives me a small smile. "I guess we get to hang out today after all."

"Are you sure? You're not usually a fan of me being at parties with you," I ask, one eyebrow raised. There's also the thing where she's been dodging me all day, but I'm leaving that alone for now.

"Are you here to keep me from having fun?"

"I don't know, are you going to need rescuing from that fun?" I'm teasing, and judging from her grin she knows it.

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet."

"How about this—if I start ruining your fun, you let me know, and if you do anything reckless, I'll haul you out of here and drop you off at home?"

"This deal seems... very unbalanced." Elle points out.

"Yeah," I admit with a smirk.

"Whatever," Elle laughs. "But just so we're clear, the way I'm letting you know if you're crossing the line is by kicking you in the shins."

"Just like the good old days." No, really, and Elle's kicks were always better aimed than Lee's, not to mention that I wasn't allowed to pin her down until she stopped attacking me, the way I could with him. But wrestling with Elle is not a mental image I need right now. Intriguing mental image, yes; helpful mental image, no.

Elle rolls her eyes at me. "Fine. But if you're going to insist on sticking around, at least go get me a drink. I'd do it myself, but as I recall you don't trust me to pick my own drinks."

"One ginger ale, coming right up."

" _Noah_." Elle glares at me, and the salute I give her as I walk off doesn't seem to help at all.

When I get back, Elle is talking to a girl who looks vaguely familiar, though I'm not sure why. Whatever they're talking about has them giggling hysterically, and I hand Elle her drink without interrupting. It's not the threatened ginger ale, it's that disgusting rum and root beer she always makes herself, but Elle's grateful smile turns to a frown when she takes a sip and realizes how weak I made it. Compromises.

I'm still trying to remember where I know the girl from when I notice Elle is leaning into me, one arm lightly resting against my back. I don't mind, I'm just surprised.

"Anyway, I should leave you two alone. Nice seeing you again, Noah." Elle's friend gives me a wave as she walks off.

"Who was that?" I ask once she's out of earshot.

"Lane—you sat next to her at dinner, remember? In Boston, with my debate friends." Elle looks uneasy for some reason, and her arm drops away from me.

Elle starts telling me about some scrape she and Lee got into at school this week, but a few minutes later we're interrupted by two guys.

They look familiar too, and this time I know why—they were also in Boston. Which makes sense, if Ryan's sister is part of Elle's debate crowd. Elle doesn't introduce us, but the guys seem to recognize me. They're telling Elle some apparently shocking gossip about another of their friends, but that's not what I'm paying attention to. No, what I'm paying attention to is the reappearance of Elle's arm around me and the way she's once again leaning into me. Which I still don't mind in the least, until Elle's friends walk away and she pulls away again. Which is when it hits me.

"Elle... do your debate friends still think we're dating?"

Elle instantly blushes, and that's all the answer I need.

"Don't get mad. I just... never got around to it. I mean, I thought it would be weird to say we broke up right after the trip, so I figured I'd give it a week or two, and then —"

"Relax—it's fine. I was just curious."

"Sorry, though. I know I said I would, I just didn't expect they'd see you again." Elle's chewing nervously at her lip.

"Elle, I mean it. I really don't care."

Which is a lie. In fact, I like this very much, because there's a lot I can do with this situation. I'd hate to make Elle look like a liar, after all.

I wrap my arm loosely around Elle, and she balks, fixing me with an uneasy look.

"What are you doing? I didn't mean you need to pretend."

"Hey, I've got a reputation to protect. Just making sure your friends know I'm a devoted boyfriend."

"No one's looking at us. And that is _not_ your reputation."

"But they don't know that."

" _I_ know that."

"Ouch, Shelly."

Elle looks apologetic. "That sounded bad, didn't it."

"Only if you meant it."

Elle's blush deepens, and she's avoiding my eyes again. But, she's also not making any attempt to move away from me; if anything, she's letting herself relax against me.

"Why are you — what _is_ this, Noah?" Elle quietly asks.

"What I wanted to do yesterday."

Shit, that sounded wrong. I meant we were finally getting a chance to hang out, but instead it came out like some horribly cheesy line. Except... the way she's looking at me now, her eyes blazing and her lips hinting at amusement, maybe I'm okay with that. Because if Elle thinks it's that interrupted moment in the kitchen I'm talking about, and if this is her reaction—I'm not wasting this opportunity.

And I must have read her right, because as soon as I lean in, she reaches for me, one hand cradling my cheek as the other clutches my shoulder for support as she rises on tiptoe. The kiss is everything I remember from her visit, everything I failed so utterly to make myself forget. Well, except for the realization of exactly how annoyingly short she is, which hadn't been an issue when she'd very conveniently fallen into my bed. And then, just like our time in Boston, the kiss ends long before I'm ready, but Elle doesn't bolt. Instead, she pulls back just enough to look at me, and I can practically hear her heart hammering as she searches my expression. Or maybe that's my own racing pulse I'm hearing.

"We should — there's too many people. Could we... ?"

She's stumbling over her words, but her meaning is clear.

"Yeah."

I'm not winning any awards for eloquence right now either, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that Elle smiles, then takes my hand before pulling me behind her. I don't know Ryan's house, but she seems to, and she quickly winds us through the living room, out a set of sliding doors, and away from the house. There's a small crowd around a fire pit on the patio, but the side yard Elle leads me to is deserted. A couch and two lounge chairs sit around a low table, and Elle releases my hand as she sits down on one of the chairs. I don't know if that means I'm supposed to take the other chair, but Elle doesn't object when I squeeze next to her instead. She does seem more hesitant now that we're alone, though.

Elle stares down at her hands, twisting one of her rings around before finally speaking. "What are we doing, Noah?"

_Whatever you want_ comes to mind, but I'm not sure it's true. Or at least, I'm not sure what Elle thinks we _should_ do is what I'm hoping for. Not that I have a great answer for what _I_ think we're doing, so I fall back on humor.

"I'm a little offended you've forgotten already."

Elle clearly wasn't expecting that, and I'm relieved when she giggles in response.

"You could remind me."

And now she's floored _me_. There's no misinterpreting that answer, especially not with the way her eyes danced as she said it, but I freeze anyway. She's swung from reticent to flirtatious and back again so many times with me, and I _know_ this still isn't a good idea. On the other hand... I want to and she wants to. Yeah, easy decision.

Elle is watching me with a small smirk that turns smug as I lean in to kiss her, and my lips have barely brushed hers before she eagerly winds her arms around my neck, slanting her head to better align us. And if that kiss a minute ago was everything I remembered from Boston, this one is even better, and so I tell that nagging voice in my head to shut up. I have a lot better things to think about right now than whether this is a good idea—like how soft Elle's hair feels when my hand sweeps under it to cup the back of her neck, the teasing darting of her tongue, and the barely audible sighs that sometimes escape her. Elle pulls me down with her as she leans back into the chair, and the moment abruptly shifts to slapstick when the lounger unexpectedly reclines and she nearly rolls off its side.

Elle is giggling like mad as I pull her back onto the seat, and pretty soon I'm laughing too. Apparently she's as bad about falling out of beds as she is about falling into them, and I regret all the times I teased her for being a klutz. Not because she isn't, but because it's cute as hell.

"So, did that refresh your memory?" I ask once we've recovered from the hilarity of her near-accident.

"I hadn't actually forgotten." Elle impishly admits.

"My self-esteem thanks you greatly."

"I wasn't worried about the health of your ego," Elle laughs. "It's never needed any help."

"You wound me, Shelly."

"I _will_ wound you if you call me that again."

"Do you actually want me to stop?"

I don't know that I could, but I'd at least have to try, if she really did hate it.

Elle bites at her lip again as she considers my question. It's not a new nervous habit of hers, but it's one that's been driving me crazy ever since getting better acquainted with those lips.

"No," Elle finally decides. "But I'm still going to yell at you for it," she adds with a sly grin.

I should probably get us back to her earlier question, about what exactly we're doing—make sure she really has changed her mind about the impossibility of this. But when Elle reaches for me again, I take that as answer enough.

* * *

I'd hoped tonight would distract me from Elle, but instead it's Elle that ends up distracting me from everything else, including the party going on around us. Well, not quite _around_ us, thanks to Elle's knowledge of the more secluded parts of Ryan's home, but near enough to provide a low soundtrack of thumping bass and drunken revelry. It's not until slamming car doors start to join that soundtrack that we realize how thoroughly we've lost track of time.

Elle winces after looking at her phone. "Shit, it's really late. My dad's going to kill me."

"Midnight curfew?"

"No, but I'm supposed to let him know if I'm out this late. I should text him and swear I'm on my way."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"On your deathmobile?"

"Motorcycle, Elle. They're called _motorcycles_. And no, I drove tonight."

"That's a relief. But I did too, and you dropping me off wouldn't make my dad any happier about how late I am."

"Yeah, probably not." Which reminds me of some conversations we should have, but those can wait.

I stand up and extend a hand to her.

"Worried I'll fall out of this chair again without your help?"

"Can you blame me?"

Elle glares at me, but she also lets me pull her up. And then keeps hold of my hand as we walk through the yard, her fingers interlacing with mine as though we'd done this a thousand times, not letting go until we reach her car.

"Are you taking Sanj touring again tomorrow?"

"We haven't really made plans yet."

"Maybe you and I could... talk?" Elle's playing with her car keys rather than looking at me.

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Good. So — I guess I'll call you. Or I could come by, maybe. If you're going to be around." Elle adds awkwardly.

"I'm confident you know where to find me."

"Yeah, I think I can manage," Elle laughs.

She looks up at me like she's going to say something more, then turns away instead, reaching for the door handle. Impulsively I stop her, a hand at her back to pull her closer, and kiss the top of her head before stepping back. Even in the dark I can see her blushing, and she mumbles _Good night, Noah_ before turning back to the door and disappearing into her car.

I wait until Elle's car is all the way out of sight before going to find my own, and then I lean back in my seat for a long minute to catch my breath and let my heart stop racing before finally starting the engine. There's still a lot we need to figure out, but at least I know what _I_ want.

_**A/N: the Favor reappears... in more ways than one. Thanks again for your patience, and an early warning that next week is likely to be a Birthday Flowers update again.** _


	10. Mystery Girl

My alarm wakes me mid-dream on Saturday morning, and for a few minutes after silencing it I chase the last wisps of the dream, managing only to recall that we'd all been at the beach house. _All_ including Elle, of course, and while I may not remember any details of my dream, I do remember every moment of last night. We said we'd talk today, and that prospect is as good a reason as any to make myself get out of bed.

I'm still groggily walking to the stairs when I hear Elle's voice coming from the kitchen—she really _is_ always here, and I don't know how I ever thought that was a bad thing. I hesitate before continuing, glancing at myself in the mirror. And then, as much as it makes me roll my eyes at myself, I return to my room to brush my teeth, comb my hair, and put on something nicer than what I slept in. Lee would absolutely roast me if he ever found out, but that's not even in the top ten of reasons Lee can't find out about whatever this is Elle and I have gotten ourselves into, at least not yet.

The door to Sanj's guest room remains closed when I exit my room again, which gives me a chance to hang out with just Elle and Lee for breakfast. And, if I can get rid of Lee long enough, maybe Elle and I can make plans to have that conversation we've promised each other.

When I finally make it downstairs, this time it's Lee I hear, and I freeze when I realize what he's talking about.

"You were at Anna's last night, right?" Lee asks.

"Yeaaah," Elle answers slowly, her voice hesitant.

"Did you see Noah?"

Shit. I never mentioned my destination when I left the house yesterday. So Lee's question is... worrisome.

"No—why, was he there?"

I'll give Elle credit for sounding convincingly nonchalant in her reply to Lee. I just hope she didn't turn her usual scarlet as she said it.

"Oh yeah," Lee laughs. "Check out what Tuppen just sent."

Also worrisome. I definitely don't recall seeing Tuppen last night, or anyone else from Country Day, but this can't be good. And maybe I should check my own phone before I walk into whatever's awaiting me in the kitchen—which is how I discover a message from Tuppen sent late last night, reading _Welcome home, bro. Glad college hasn't reformed you._

So, that's a very bad sign. Because I can't think of anything I did last night that could inspire that comment, other than the not-insignificant time Elle and I shared that lounge chair. I don't remember seeing anyone anywhere near us, but I also wasn't paying particularly close attention to anything beyond Elle. Shit.

The question is what exactly Tuppen saw, or rather whom. There's only that one message from him, and that's encouraging—Tuppen would surely have had a lot more to say if he'd spotted me with Elle. And, at the very least, there's no way his message to Lee involved Elle, or Lee would have sounded a hell of a lot less entertained by it.

I could silently retreat up the stairs and let Elle deal with Lee on her own, but that doesn't seem gallant. So, walking into the lion's den it is.

I enter the kitchen just in time to hear Elle complain "Eww, _why_ would you think I want to know about that?"

"Know about what? Lee, are you making Elle watch gross videos again?"

I'm going to pretend I have no idea what they're talking about for as long as possible. Elle looks alarmed to see me.

"I don't know, Noah, _is_ there a video? Because that seems over the line even for you." Lee snaps.

Whoa, that escalated. "Excuse me?"

"You and flavor of the week. Guess your friend was wrong about that secret Harvard girlfriend. Or maybe he wasn't, it's not like that would stop you."

I have no clue why Lee is being such an asshole—especially if he doesn't know Elle was involved—and I reflexively take a step at him. "What the hell are you on about?"

Instantly Elle is at my side, a hand on my arm. "Noah—calm down. Lee, Noah has no idea what you're talking about." Elle stares hard at me as she says it. Yeah, clearly that joke about Lee watching gross videos was the wrong way to go.

I exhale and take a step back. "No, I don't. So why doesn't one of you tell me what I've done wrong now?"

Lee looks ready to fire back, but Elle jumps in before he can. She's still staring intently at me with a look that I'm certain means I should be quiet and let her handle this.

" _Apparently_ you were spotted at a party last night. With a _mystery_ girl."

"Uh huh."

Mystery girl sounds good. Mystery girl means Elle wasn't recognized. I should continue to shut up and let her do the talking. Trying to appear disinterested rather than relieved, I pour myself some coffee.

"And here's the _really_ funny part— _apparently_ , this was the same party I went to."

" _You_ were at Ryan's?" Hopefully I'm not overdoing my surprised tone.

"Yeah, although I understand your confusion, since you clearly weren't paying attention to much besides your _mystery girl_."

That's extremely true. "Can you blame me? She was hot."

Elle barely stifles a giggle as I give her my best smirk, and I top off my comment by stealing a piece of toast from her plate. Elle's indignant smack at my hand isn't quick enough and she has to settle for glaring as I take a triumphant bite.

"So, that's why you're so mad at me?" I ask Lee, turning back to him. "Because I had a date last night?"

"Date, right," Lee rolls his eyes. "Would it kill you not to be a sleazeball for once in your life?"

"Come on, Lee, Tuppen just said he was making out with some girl. That's, like, normal Noah behavior." Elle mutters that last part awkwardly, then shoots me an apologetic look.

"And that girl at Harvard is cool with this?" Lee still sounds scornful.

"For the last time—there is no girl at Harvard. And I have no idea what story Tuppen is spreading, but if it's anything beyond me kissing a fully-clothed, entirely sober, appropriately-aged, and _extremely_ willing girl, he's lying."

I mean, there were some roving hands, but I think we can agree that still falls within the commonly-accepted bounds of _kissing_. Elle looks like she's trying desperately not to laugh.

"I'll send you Tuppen's message," Elle manages to say with a straight face. "It's not anything crazy. Lee's just being cranky."

"Whatever," Lee shrugs dismissively. "You're right, just typical Noah."

Lee's gibe sticks in my throat, but it's hard to deny without creating worse trouble. I settle for a withering stare.

"So, who was she?" Elle casually asks.

I come close to choking on my toast. Elle's expression is the picture of innocence, but there's a devilish light in her eyes.

"None of your business, Miss Nosy." Two can play at this game.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you forget to ask her name?" Elle teases.

"I was busy. But I'm sure she'll tell me tonight. At dinner."

"You have a _date_ with her? Really?" Elle quirks an eyebrow at me.

"I will once I ask her. And I'm pretty sure I got her number."

"And you just assume she's going to agree? Maybe she's already gotten what she wanted from you," Elle scoffs.

"I'm willing to bet she wants more."

It's Elle's turn to nearly choke on her coffee.

"Oh my god, Elle, stop encouraging him," Lee groans. "He's unbearable enough as it is."

I have about ten different replies in mind all involving Elle's eager encouragement of me, but instead I just grin at Lee.

"Fine. I'll be upstairs, getting myself a date."

* * *

It takes Elle approximately three minutes to show up in my room, and another few seconds to quietly shut my door before cornering me. Her hands grip the arm rests of my desk chair as she looms over me with that look of classic Shelly fury I shouldn't enjoy as much as I do.

"See, I told you she wanted more," I grin at her.

"You are _insufferable_."

"That's a very big word, Shelly."

"Big word for an even bigger ego."

"Look, I'm just stating facts here."

"Facts, hmm? Seems to me the _facts_ are that you don't actually have a date for tonight."

"Hey, Elle, want to get dinner tonight?"

Elle returns my smirk. "I'll think about it."

My move to pull her into my lap catches her off-guard, and a burst of giggling escapes her.

"Is this your plan for convincing me?" Elle asks slyly, her lips now irresistibly close.

"No, I just didn't like you staring down at me like that. It's unnatural."

It's holding Elle like this that should feel unnatural, but it doesn't.

"So, _do_ I need to convince you?"

"No, dinner sounds good. I mean, we said we'd... talk. And we can't really do that here." Elle's earlier laughter has quieted; she sounds less assured now.

"Yeah, probably not."

Elle must have come over right after showering, because her hair is still damp and the brush of its stray wisps against my cheek is beyond distracting. Even if she's already agreed to dinner, I'm incredibly tempted to try and _convince_ her further... until I remember the near-disaster we just escaped from.

"So, that was a close one. With Lee, I mean."

"Oh my god—I nearly died when I saw that message. Did _you_ have any idea Tuppen was at the party?"

"None. I'm just glad he didn't recognize you."

"Are you sure he didn't?"

"He sent me a message, too, and he'd have had a lot more to say if he'd known it was you. Trust me."

I look forward to Tuppen finding out, actually. Just... not before we've dealt with Lee.

"You _are_ a lot easier to spot from a distance than I am," Elle grins.

I'm sure staying curled against me the whole time, using the chilly night as her excuse, made Elle particularly hard to spot. But Shelly using me as a blanket is not what I need to be thinking about right now.

"So. Dinner. Is that horrible pizza place on the Pier still your favorite, or did the health department finally shut it down?"

"Sal's is still there," Elle glares, "and I'm telling him you said that. But we can't go there tonight. Lee was just saying he wants to hit the arcade, and that's too close to Sal's."

"Okay, so nowhere near the Pier. That diner you like?"

"No—there's always people from school there on the weekend."

More reasons Elle and I need to hurry up and have this discussion, because I'd rather not spend all our time worrying about being seen.

"This isn't a top-secret spy mission, Elle."

"I know, I just... don't feel like dealing with people knowing," Elle sighs. "Wait... I've got it. Duncan just told me there's a Miyazaki marathon at UCLA tonight. I'll tell Lee we should all go, I'll back out at the last minute with a headache, and then you and I can eat at Sal's in peace."

I'm pretty sure Elle just turned Duncan's attempt to spend time alone with her into a scheme to clear the way for our date. I'd gloat, but it's probably wiser not to point this out and just silently take the win.

"Excellent. Invite Sanj along too, then I won't have to feel bad about ditching him."

Elle seems skeptical. "Won't it be weird that I'm not also inviting you, then?"

"No, because _I_ have a date. With that mystery girl Tuppen just told everyone about. Wish I'd gotten her name before she started distracting me, though."

Elle blushes, and I love how every mention of last night does that to her.

"Alright, I should go find that textbook I told Lee I needed to grab from his room before he comes looking for me," she finally says.

"Ah, so that's what you told him. I was wondering."

"Seemed like a better option than the truth," Elle shrugs wryly.

At some point we're going to have to come clean, but not until we've talked about what that truth is, exactly.

"You'll let me know if Lee goes for your movie plan?"

"Yeah, definitely. And if he doesn't, we can come up with something else."

Elle starts to stand, then hesitates, giving me just enough time to kiss her while she's still within reach. She doesn't seem at all surprised, and for a second, when her hand tightens at my shoulder, I think she might even be swayed to stay a little longer. She could just tell Lee it took forever to find that book because she stopped by my room to get more gossip out of me about last night. Which... is basically the truth. Inevitably, though, Elle pulls away, giving me one last impish smile before disappearing from my room.

I'd been debating how to respond to Tuppen when Elle interrupted, but before getting back to that I need to make a quick update to my contact list. _Sweater Thief_ has become _Mystery Girl_ , and I've got a date to plan.

* * *

_**A/N: Did I recycle my favorite chapter title from Birthday Flowers? Yes. Am I sorry? Not even a little.** _


	11. What This Is

The last item on Sanj's California bucket list is the beach. It's too cold to swim, but he wants to be able to say he's seen the Pacific and I don't mind a lazy day of sunshine. Except, so far I've been thinking about tonight instead of relaxing. This won't exactly be my first date, and not even the first time Elle and I have hung out alone, but it'll definitely be the first time I've gone on a date with Elle. Assuming tonight _is_ a date, of course. I'm reasonably confident it is, but confirmation from Elle would be good. And if we do agree, then what? I fly back to Boston tomorrow, so it's not like next weekend I can take her to dinner or show up for her soccer game. I want to do this right, I'm just not sure what that's going to mean. And screwing this up isn't an option, not when it's Elle.

But none of this is new—I spent several sleepless hours pondering these challenges while listening to Elle sleep when she visited, and then I kissed her anyway. We had a whole conversation that morning about why it shouldn't happen again, and then last night happened. Clearly we've changed our minds, so we're just going to have to find a way to make this work. I'll be back for Christmas, and that's barely a month. And maybe that's all we need to figure out right now—get through the next few weeks, and take it from there.

I'm jolted from my ridiculous middle school angst by a loud thud and a spray of sand hitting my legs. A volleyball just landed at my feet and I look up to find Tuppen staring at me with a smirk. Great, definitely someone I was hoping to deal with today.

"We need one more on our team. Get off your phone and come help."

I'm not sure helping Tuppen out is a priority of mine right now, but I'm not about to tell him why his gossip was unwelcome. And, maybe I can find out exactly what he saw—if he _did_ recognize Elle and is holding back that detail for some reason, better to know that now and plan accordingly.

Sanj ends up joining us too, and the game provides a decent distraction from everything else on my mind. At least, until Tuppen decides he needs more gossip.

"So, who was she?" Tuppen asks as we take a break.

I ignore him, but he's as annoyingly persistent as ever.

"Come on, tell me."

"A girl."

Tuppen rolls his eyes. "That part I assumed. Anyone I know?"

Tuppen looks genuinely curious, so I'm inclined to believe he really didn't recognize Elle.

"Nope." I feel exactly zero guilt about the lie.

"What are you guys talking about?" Sanj asks.

I say "Nothing" at the same time Tuppen laughs "The girl he scored last night."

A crass exaggeration, but I'm not about to provide details.

"You had a date last night?" Sanj sounds confused.

"Not really."

"Not a _date_ ," Tuppen helpfully interrupts. "Just a Flynn party conquest."

As eagerly as he's begging to be punched, letting Tuppen believe whatever he wants means fewer inconvenient questions.

"Oh. I guess I really was wrong about that other girl." Sanj looks weirdly disappointed.

Tuppen's eyes gleam. "There's another girl? Figures."

"There. Is. No. Girl." I grit out.

"So who've you been texting all those times?" Sanj still sounds puzzled.

" _A friend._ Now, less gossip, more volleyball."

This is great. Now Sanj thinks I've been leading one girl on while making out with random girls at parties. I'd rather not have my roommate believing I'm a jerk, but explanations can't happen right now. At least Elle will be amused to hear I've been cheating on her with, well, her.

* * *

I get to Sal's way too early, like some kind of nervous wreck on his first-ever date, only to discover that Elle's running late. It seems Lee offered to keep her company when she announced she wasn't feeling well and bailed on movie night, so she had to convince him she'd be fine on her own. I'd say he has a sixth sense for getting in our way, but that's obviously not true, given how oblivious he was this morning.

I look up from my phone every time the door opens, and after several disappointments it's finally Elle. Elle in a dress that she definitely wasn't wearing this morning, so I'm not the only one who dressed up for this dinner that's very probably a date. The dress isn't particularly revealing, and yet there's something about the way it skims her curves that's incredibly distracting. There are a lot of things we've made more complicated by getting involved, but at least I can stop lying to myself about my attraction to Elle and enjoy it instead.

There's an uneasy silence after we sit down. Yeah, it's Elle and we've had dinner together a hundred times, sometimes in this exact restaurant, but never like this, never as a date. Elle seems more reserved than this morning as we make awkward small talk, and I wonder if something happened today to dim her usual cheer. I'm still wrestling with how to start the conversation when the waitress shows up to take our order, and by the time we've argued our way to a compromise on pizza toppings, the weirdness has worn off. Now that I'm with Elle, now that we're back to that easy teasing we always fall into, this afternoon's worries seem ridiculous. Whatever it is between us, it just works, and we don't need to figure out more than how to get through the next month. That's not any longer than between her October visit and now, and that clearly didn't deter us. So we'll keep trading texts, we'll add some calls, and soon enough I'll be back, for several weeks this time. We should get around to actually having that conversation at some point tonight, but things just seem simpler when Elle's around.

Elle's been ignoring her phone for most of dinner, but she checks it after hearing the annoyingly shrill alert Lee assigned himself. Her expression clouds as she reads the message and then taps out a quick reply, and there's something forced about the smile she gives me after setting the phone back down.

"What did Lee want?"

"Just checking on me, asking whether I was feeling any better." Elle's eyes are cast down, avoiding mine. "I hate lying to him," she finally adds, sighing.

I reach for her hand, squeezing it lightly. "I know. It'll be easier once we've told him."

Elle looks up sharply. "Told him what?"

"About this. So you won't need to lie any more."

Now Elle looks alarmed. "We can't tell Lee. Lee can never find out about this."

An uneasy feeling lodges in the pit of my stomach. "We can't sneak around forever—at some point we've got to tell him."

"But there's nothing to tell him. He doesn't need to know we made out."

And now that uneasy feeling has turned to lead.

"Is _that_ all it is?"

Elle shrugs, still avoiding eye contact. "You're leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah, and coming back four weeks later."

"And then leaving again. Look, Noah, we don't need to make a big deal about this. We had fun, but we both know this can't work. _We_ can't work."

Elle's words gut me, but at the same time... I don't believe them. I know her, and I know there's more she's not saying.

"Why not?" I challenge.

"You... want this to work?"

Elle sounds surprised, and that surprises _me_. I'd expected Elle to list all the same reasons why this can't work as in October, to tell me again why this is a bad idea, but I hadn't expected this uncertainty. Hadn't imagined she might not know I want this. But the confusion in her voice is genuine, and maybe it's my fault for not making my intentions clear enough.

"I'd like to give this a shot, yeah. And I know we said we shouldn't, when you visited, but we're not doing a great job of staying away from each other, are we?"

"Not so much," Elle admits, the twitch of her lips hinting at laughter.

"So if we're doing this, of course I want it to work." There's no way I'd have taken the gamble otherwise.

"But it _can't_." Elle stubbornly insists.

"You still haven't told me why."

"Because you're in college a million miles away."

"Three thousand. And planes exist."

"Because Lee would kill me."

"I don't care what Lee thinks. What do _you_ want?"

" _I_ want to not wreck things between us. To not make things weird forever."

"So we won't let it. Who says it has to end badly?"

"Because... you're you," Elle sighs, then winces. "I'm sorry, that sounded wrong. But... you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

I'd be more offended by Elle's comment if I thought she were being honest. Something about her voice and her expression and her fidgeting tells me Elle's objecting because she thinks she _should_.

"You don't exactly have a great track record. Not that it's a bad record, really. It's just... no record. You don't date, Noah. You... hook up with girls at parties and then move on by the next weekend."

Hard to deny, but not relevant to this conversation. None of those girls were Elle. Besides, for the record and in my own defense, those girls all moved on by the next weekend, too.

"Maybe I just hadn't found a girl I wanted to date yet."

"We met seventeen years ago," Elle points out, eyebrows high.

"Yeah, but maybe I'm an idiot who hadn't _realized_ which girl I wanted to date." Despite all those giant flashing signs I ignored. "Come on, you've said yourself what an idiot I am. Many times," I smile at her.

Elle stares at me, holding my gaze. I can't quite read her, but I'd like to believe it's hope I see flickering in her eyes.

But then she looks away. "Look, I'm sorry I said it was because of you—it's not. I don't think _I_ can do this right now. Applications are due soon and I still can't decide where I want to go. Or what I want to study. Or how to make my essay sound less stupid. Or how to pay for college. And I never have any time to actually think about any of those, because school is crazy too. It's just... it's not a good time."

I probably shouldn't find Elle's answer encouraging, but I do.

"I don't know, sounds like the perfect time for a boyfriend that isn't around to distract you."

Elle startles, flashing me an exceedingly skeptical look, but she's also blushing hard. "Boyfriend?"

"I'm no expert, but I'm told that's the term for this." I smirk.

Maybe it's bold of me to assume, but if the point of this argument is this being real, then that seems like the right word.

But it doesn't seem to have been the right thing to say. Elle looks away again, staring at her hands as she shreds her napkin. It's a nervous habit of hers I know well, and it's not a good sign.

"You don't have to pretend like this is more than it is, Noah."

"Fine. _You_ tell me what this is, then. Because we're clearly not on the same page."

I'm struggling to hold back my frustration. As much as I want to believe Elle's not telling me the whole story, that she wants this too, there's not much I can do if she refuses to admit it.

"It was... us having fun. Because we were curious, but not... anything serious. Not anything real. I mean, I know you—how you are with girls. I'm not naïve. I just figured, maybe if we got it out of our systems we'd stop being weird around each other. I didn't think—I wasn't expecting anything. I didn't think _you_ were."

This is some kind of twisted prank the universe is playing on me, because apparently I just got played. By my own reputation.

"Do you actually believe that?"

Elle is silent a long time, continuing to avoid my eyes as she plays with her hair, twisting it tightly around one finger. Another familiar nervous habit, another sign of how uneasy she feels. I reach across the table for her other hand and I'm relieved when she laces her fingers through mine. I may not understand why she's so reluctant to acknowledge this wasn't meaningless, but at least I know she knows it.

"Come on, Elle. We both know it was more than that."

Elle stays quiet. I don't know if she realizes her thumb is tracing slow lines back and forth across the back of my hand, but I'm pretty sure that's a good sign.

"Can we... have this conversation at Christmas? When you're home again and we're both on break from school?" Elle finally answers.

"So we pretend nothing happened?"

"No, that's not what I meant. Not what I want. Look, I... I want this to be real, too. But I'm also so confused. I want us to have this conversation, I do, I just can't do it right now. Not when you're going to be gone tomorrow. So, I don't know, I guess I want to hit pause."

I'm still not sure I understand, but Elle wants this to be real—that's really all that matters.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Elle looks up with a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah. We don't have to say what this is or isn't. We can just... leave things as they are."

"And not tell anyone?"

"Sure. If that's what you want." And for now it's what I want, too. We can't hide forever, but I don't need Lee meddling while I'm gone. Somehow I doubt his opinions will be helpful.

Elle nods, and I can see her relax. "Thank you," she adds. She's left her hand curled in mine, and the soft squeeze she gives me as she says it is all the reassurance I need about her feelings. I've got a month to prove to her that whatever this is, it's not going to disappear just because we're in different time zones. That's a challenge I can work with.

_._


	12. Pause

If this were a movie, I'm pretty sure now is when I'd make a grand gesture to prove to Elle how serious I am. Show up outside her window with flowers and the exact right words to convince her to give this a chance. Or, more dramatic yet, tell her at Sunday lunch, with our whole families there to hear it. But I've known Elle forever, and putting her on the spot always backfires. So instead, I keep things as normal as possible at lunch. I don't ignore her, but I don't pester her either, and I don't give in to the urge to gaze at her... much. There's surprisingly little awkwardness between us at the table, and we exchange hidden smiles when Lee laments that Elle had to miss yesterday's movie night—the movie night that she orchestrated for the express purpose of keeping Lee and the rest of her friends out of our way.

Sanj and I need to leave for the airport right after lunch, and I can see Elle hanging back, pretending not to watch me, as we gather our stuff and fend off Mom's attempts to send us back to campus with Thanksgiving leftovers. Finally, I get my chance. Elle's dad and brother have gone home, Lee's upstairs looking for something, Dad and Sanj are loading the bags into the car, and Mom's in the kitchen, probably packing those leftovers we just said we didn't need. That leaves just me and Elle in the living room, and when our eyes meet I can see her debating whether to disappear and thwart any attempt at a private goodbye. But she doesn't, she stays right where she is as I approach her, a smile escaping when I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'll call you tonight."

"You really don't have to," she laughs with a slight roll of her eyes.

"But I'm going to anyway," I grin.

"Noah... I meant what I said. We don't need to make a big deal out of this."

"And that means I can't call you? I'm going to need guidance on what constitutes too big a deal. Maybe you could explain it to me when I call?"

Elle gives me a look of mock exasperation. "I'm not sure why you think annoying me is a good strategy."

"Because I'm not. If I were annoying you, you'd have followed Lee upstairs instead of sticking around just to say goodbye to me."

"Oh really—is that what I'm doing?"

I let my smirk speak for me, and Elle's attempt to glare in response fails miserably. My hand is still at her shoulder, still where it landed after fixing that distracting strand of hair, and it wouldn't take much to close the distance between us for a last kiss. But I can hear Lee walking down the stairs and my dad calling from outside, and I don't trust us to make this kiss quick enough to escape notice. Instead, I settle for pulling Elle in just close enough to press my lips to the top of her head, and the amused blush she gives me as I walk away is exactly how I plan to picture her until I can see her in person again.

* * *

There are a couple messages from Elle waiting when we land in Boston. Nothing personal, just her usual nonsense, but they do make me laugh. A little too loudly, apparently, because Sanj sets his own phone down and gives mine a pointed look.

"So is that the girl you were texting before this weekend, or the one from the party? Because I'm still not convinced the first one was just your _friend_."

"Still none of your business," I laugh.

"I live with you, and I'm going to keep asking every single time I see you stare at your phone with that goofy-ass smile. So save us both the aggravation and just tell me now."

He has a point, and it's not like Sanj knowing is a problem; he's not going to go running to Lee.

"Both."

"Both what?" Sanj sounds confused.

"You asked which girl it was."

"They're both texting you?"

"They're the same person."

Sanj blinks at me. "The girl you hooked up with at the party is the girl you were talking to before? She's in LA?"

"Correct."

Sanj doesn't look any less confused. "So then why did you keep telling me there was no girl?"

"Because you kept asking with other people around."

"So it's a _secret_ girl?" Now Sanj's confusion has turned to fascination.

"For now."

"But you're telling _me_."

"Because you're not going to tell the wrong people."

"And the wrong people are... ?"

"In California."

Sanj is quiet a minute, which I'm hoping means he's dropping the subject. But no such luck.

"Wait—your brother's friend, is that who you're keeping this from? Because that girl clearly has a crush on you."

I can't help laughing, and I'm glad to hear Elle's lack of indifference to me is that obvious. "Ah, no. Elle knows, actually."

"So that's why she got mad when I mentioned the girl at Thanksgiving?"

"Kind of."

"Because she doesn't like the girl?"

"Because she _is_ the girl."

The look on Sanj's face before he bursts out laughing is worth how annoying he's going to be about this now that he knows.

* * *

Now that Sanj's curiosity is satisfied, I spend the subway ride back to campus trying to figure out what _I_ know. I know I like Elle—a lot. And I can't pretend it's just a platonic thing. I have other friends I find entertaining, other friends I enjoy spending time with. Some of them are even female, and attractively so. But I can see those friends without being consumed by a desire to kiss them. I don't instinctively hate any guy I see smiling at them and I don't feel my stomach drop when they mention guys, not the way it did when I thought Lee was saying Elle and Duncan were dating. So the way I like Elle... it's more than friendship.

And after this weekend, I think that feeling is mutual. I think Elle knows there's something between us, and I think she wants it as much as I do. The problem is, Elle seems convinced it can't work, and I'm still not sure she believes I want it to work. Or maybe she just doesn't think I'm capable of making it work. Either way, that's my challenge for the next few weeks: to get Elle to give me a chance and give us a chance. And maybe the best way of doing that is just to act like we're already there.

So I call Elle when I get back to my dorm from the airport. Not for hours or anything—it's late and practice starts at six on Monday mornings—but long enough to say hi. Long enough to make her laugh about something and to tell her I'll call again tomorrow. She claims I don't need to, but I know her and I know what she sounds like when she's smiling. I do call the next day, and most of the following days, and somewhere around the tenth call Elle stops telling me I'm being ridiculous every time she picks up the phone. Which she always does, I can't help smugly noting—only to myself, of course, because I'm no idiot. We rarely talk for long, but it's always the best part of my day.

* * *

One afternoon my phone rings as I'm leaving class, and I'm surprised to see Elle's name. We usually talk much later in the day, and I'm always the one that calls. When I ask her what's up she claims she just felt like saying hi, but she doesn't sound like herself. She also doesn't have much to say, unlike her usual stream of chatter; instead, she keeps finding questions to ask me. I get the feeling she's lonely and just wants someone to talk to—maybe Lee's not around or he's busy, or maybe she's mad at him about something. Not that I mind that she called me, I just can't shake the feeling there's something else. I'm in the middle of a story about a birthday party last weekend when the date hits me. The realization stops me mid-sentence and I have to catch my breath before I can speak again.

"Shell, I am so sorry. It's today, isn't it?"

I can't tell if her quick intake of breath is anger or sadness. I'm furious at myself for not noticing the date sooner.

"Yeah," she finally whispers.

"I am so, so sorry. I should have said something earlier. I should have called this morning. Are you... okay?" I wince at how inadequate that sounds, but there aren't adequate words for losing your mom.

"Yeah. No. Not really. Both, I guess." There's a pause before she continues. "But thank you for remembering."

"Of course. Are you and Lee playing hooky again?"

Last year, on the first anniversary of Joni's death, Lee and Elle spent the whole day at the Pier, returning home sunburned and red-eyed. Not even my dad could blame Lee for blowing off school for that.

There's a weird silence before Elle answers. "No. I'm... I'm not sure he's remembered yet."

"Lee _forgot_?"

"I think," Elle admits.

I'm going to kick his ass—right after I kick my own for not remembering earlier. For not seeing this date coming and making sure she wasn't alone. Elle remembers every last classmate's birthday and we couldn't manage to remember _this_ for her.

"God, Elle, I really am so sorry. On behalf of my idiot brother, too. Do you want me to yell at him for you?"

"No—don't. It's fine, Noah. I mean, Lee can barely keep track of the days of the week, right? I'm not sure he even knows it's December already," Elle faintly jokes. "Anyway, I don't actually— I don't want to talk about it right now. At school. You were in the middle of telling me about a party—I want to hear the rest."

It feels wrong to talk about anything else, but it's not up to me. So I finish telling Elle about Sanj singing K-pop karaoke after losing a bet, and after that I tell her about a prank some teammates pulled, about the professor who chewed us out today for messing with fonts to make our papers long enough, about the fire alarm going off in the middle of the night because some genius burned microwave popcorn, about whatever random stories come to mind. Eventually Elle tells me she's got to get to class, and the call comes to an awkward end as she brushes off my attempt to ask again if she's okay. But later she simply texts _thanks_ , and I feel a little less like a jerk for not having realized sooner.

* * *

By the time finals start, Elle and I have settled into a groove of sorts. She still sends me the same ridiculous stuff as before Thanksgiving, but there are a lot more personal messages mixed in. I call her most evenings and she always picks up, even if sometimes it's only to say she's too busy to talk or to mutter in a muted voice that she's with Lee. But other times we end up on the phone until late, and that becomes more frequent as the weeks pass. I've figured out a list of topics guaranteed to keep Elle talking, things like my roommates' misadventures, her favorite video games, the Country Day gossip she's convinced I want to stay current on, and my occasional off-campus explorations.

There are topics I avoid, though. The nature of our relationship, for instance. As long as Elle keeps taking my calls and as long as her voice keeps getting that breathy hesitation when she says goodnight, like there's more she'd like to say, I'm not going to give her an opportunity to tell me again why this is a bad idea or that I'm making too big a deal out of nothing. Like she said at Thanksgiving—we'll talk about it after I get home. Until then, I'll let her pretend there's nothing at all new about our interactions and that this is just how we've always been. She never tells me she misses me, but she doesn't need to.

I also avoid bringing up Lee. First, because there's no need—I hear plenty about him from Elle anyway. But second, because reminding Elle of the best friend she's convinced would never forgive her for dating me isn't exactly helpful to me. Lee may well throw a tantrum when he finds out, but that doesn't mean he's entitled to, and I'd like to believe he'd get over it.

The other dangerous topic is Elle's college applications. She does mention them sometimes, usually when she's once again convinced herself to scrap her essay and start over. I want to be supportive, but it's hard not asking which schools have made her final list, or whether she's applying early anywhere. She'd mentioned Harvard when she visited and a few other Boston schools since then, but she's also mentioned a lot of California schools. And, given how uneasy she is about admitting we might be more than friends, there's no good way to ask if she's considering being in Boston next year. It's not like I'd expect to have any influence on her decision, but... I'm curious.

And then there are the topics I wish Elle would drop. Specifically, her jokes about my player ways—saying she's sure the girls will be disappointed when I say I'm bailing on a party, or asking if I've got a hot date when I mention dinner plans. I know she thinks she's being funny and I'm sure if I called her on it she'd swear she's just kidding, but all those little comments add up— it's hard not to conclude some tiny part of her still believes that's who I am. Or, maybe it's just another of her attempts to act like whatever it is we're doing is something other than dating, so if things don't work out she can pretend this was never anything to begin with. Whatever the reason, I hate it.

* * *

My last final is tomorrow and if I stare at my math notes another minute I'm going to start hallucinating integrals, but I'm too keyed up to sleep. I need a change of scenery, and maybe the bitter cold of the rooftop will literally chill me out enough to fall asleep once I get back to my room.

The view from atop my dorm feels familiar by now, even if it still can't compete with LA's lights stretching into the distance. It's hard to believe that in two days trekking up to the Hollywood sign will be an option again if I need to escape, but the calendar doesn't lie. A final tomorrow morning, a well-deserved party tomorrow night, and the next morning I'm on a flight home. Home, and everything that represents—including Elle.

As much as I've been enjoying our calls, as obvious as it is Elle's feelings aren't any more platonic than mine, I'm still not sure how our long-delayed conversation will go. I'd like to think we're on the same page, but Elle's been too much of a wildcard since the start of this for me to assume anything. And if it turns out she's _still_ not convinced this can work, well, that might have to be when I admit defeat.

But I don't actually think that's likely, and there's no point worrying over it tonight anyway. I need to sleep, take my final, and then get myself back to LA. The rest I'll figure out when I see Elle.

I'm reaching my limit for sub-freezing temperatures, but before leaving the roof I snap a picture of the view and send it to Elle without comment. I'm not entirely sure why, it just seemed like the thing to do. I keep an eye on my phone for a minute to see if the message has been read yet, to see if maybe she'll start typing back, but no such luck. There's still no response from Elle by the time I fall asleep, but in the morning there's a message waiting. _I miss you too._ And that's got to be a good sign, right?


	13. Surprise Appearance

I almost talk myself out of it three times on the drive to the airport. Maybe showing up like this is too cheesy and weird. What if the last thing Noah wants after getting through finals and a long flight is to be ambushed by the flaky indecisive girl who told him not to make a big deal out of nothing? And then, when the freeway slows to a crawl, I worry he'll be headed home in a taxi before I even make it to the airport. It's not too late to send him a message, to tell him I'm on my way, but... that would require admitting to myself that I'm actually doing this. So, instead, I tell myself not to overthink and I slowly weave my way through the traffic. Get to the airport, find Noah, hope for the best; that's the entirety of my planning.

I refresh the flight status once more after parking, and suddenly it's changed to _landed_ , so now I really need to hurry. What if he didn't check a bag and he's one of the first off the plane and he heads straight to the taxi line with that annoyingly fast walk of his? But I still don't want to send him a message, to let him know I'm here, to ask him to wait for me. As stubbornly foolish a plan as this might be, I want to _see_ Noah's reaction when he realizes I'm here. Make sure I'm not about to humiliate myself by assuming he's still interested.

That's the other question I've been torturing myself with, because Noah's not the easiest to read, especially over the phone. I know what he said at Thanksgiving, but maybe that's changed. Maybe he got sick of waiting for me to make up my mind, and now I've missed my chance. It's not like he's said anything discouraging, but I'm not sure he's said anything _en_ couraging either. I mean, yeah, he calls a lot, but there's nothing overtly romantic about our conversations. He hasn't tried to make plans with me for when he gets back, and he hasn't said a word about Thanksgiving. So, sometimes I convince myself I blew it, that I pushed him back too convincingly and now we're just friends. Which wouldn't be so terrible if I didn't want so much more. If only I hadn't been such an idiot at Thanksgiving.

Or was I? I mean, I'm _still_ not convinced this is a good idea, I've just accepted I want to anyway. Maybe because I've realized this isn't just the same crush I've had forever. That crush hasn't disappeared—he's still stupid hot—but I can't tell myself that's all this is. Not when my first reaction to half the funny or weird things that happen at school is to want to tell Noah about it. Not when I keep finding excuses to stay on the phone just to hear his voice a little longer. So, I'm stuck hoping that Noah still wants to give this a chance, because I know I do.

I'm relieved to find almost no one at the luggage carousel for Noah's flight and the belt not moving. That has to be a good sign—there's no way _all_ the bags have already been retrieved, and with so few people standing around waiting, odds are that deplaning is going slowly and I haven't missed Noah. And yeah, I really should stop being ridiculous and just send him a message already. But I've made it this far with my stupid surprise plan, so I'm not giving up now. I find a spot with a clear view of the doors arriving passengers are streaming through and I give myself a last quick pep talk as I scroll through our messages from the last few weeks. I'm... eighty-percent confident I haven't blown this. Probably.

I don't have long to wait. Even in a crowd Noah's hard to miss, and as soon as he's through the doors I spot him. I freeze for a second, not sure if I should call out to get his attention. I can see him scanning the arrivals hall, and just as I'm making my mind up to wave at him his eyes lock on mine. His expression quickly transforms from surprise to a grin, and it's that smile of his that does it. My brain shuts down and with it my nerves and second-guessing; I'm acting on instinct alone as we close the remaining distance. As soon as Noah's within reach my hands clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer, and our lips have barely met when I feel my feet leave the floor. I giggle without breaking our kiss as I realize he's picked me up, his arms wrapped tight around my back. It's not a long kiss, but it's a dizzying one, so it takes me a second after I pull back to realize neither of us has actually said anything yet.

"Hi," I finally stammer. Noah seems amused by my lack of eloquence, and I kiss him again rather than let him get out whatever smartass retort has him smirking like that. This time I don't rush, letting myself relax against him and sliding my hands into his hair.

"This is a nice surprise," Noah comments when I finally release his lips, setting me back down but not letting go of me. "Is this why Lee said he couldn't pick me up?"

"No," I admit, suddenly feeling uneasy. Lee has no idea I'm doing this, and I'd like to keep it that way. Not forever, but long enough for me to make sure there's something to tell him about. I'm feeling a lot more confident about my chances now, though.

"I thought he _was_ going to, actually," I add, "but then I heard him on the phone with your mom and realized no one was picking you up." Which is why my _show up at the airport, see what happens_ plan was so half-baked; I only came up with it an hour ago.

"And you felt bad about my whole family abandoning me?"

"A little," I laugh. "But mostly I was thinking this way I'd get to see you sooner. And without our parents around." I can feel myself blushing, but I'm not letting myself chicken out this time.

Noah doesn't say anything in reply, but there's a question in his eyes as he holds my gaze.

"If I were to ask if you'd go out with me tonight," he finally says, his tone carefully neutral, "would you accuse me of making too big a deal again?"

I wince at the memory, relieved that at least Noah seems more amused than mad about it. "No. Definitely not. But I'd have to turn you down. Not because I don't want to—but I have to babysit Brad."

"That's _extremely_ unfortunate." Noah sighs with exaggerated disappointment.

"Yeah, well, telling my dad I couldn't babysit tonight because that's when you were coming home seemed like it might have required a whole lot of explanation."

"Probably true," Noah chuckles.

"I, uh, I did want to talk about that whole too big a deal thing, though."

Noah raises a quizzical eyebrow and I rush to continue before losing my nerve. "It was stupid. I mean, _I_ was stupid, when I said that. Incredibly stupid and not particularly honest."

"Would agreeing be a terrible idea?" Noah asks with a grin.

I swat at his shoulder, but I'm grateful he's making this easier.

"Fine, instead of agreeing I'll just ask when you came to this realization."

I shrug awkwardly, because I'm not actually sure. I think I knew it all along, but for a while I was pretty determined to deny it. "Every time I missed you," I finally answer.

Noah stares back at me, his expression suspiciously tender. Not that I've ever bought his tough-guy act, but I could do his reputation real damage if I felt inclined to share this moment with anyone at school. Which I absolutely don't, because I want this Noah all to myself.

"I missed you too, Shelly," Noah replies after a long pause, his eyes still fixed on mine.

I hate how good that cursed nickname sounds when he says it. "I was kinda hoping that," I admit, my blush returning.

"So just so we're clear... you're not going to get mad if I ask you to dinner? And you might even say yes?"

"Well, not tonight. But in general—yeah."

"Ah yes, the babysitting. But Brad likes me, right? He can tag along."

"You're inviting Brad on our date?" I ask, amused.

"Did you think _dinner_ was code for something else?" Noah teases, then laughs at my reaction. "I really do just want to get to see you, you know, and if that means entertaining Brad, too, I can deal with that."

"As much as I'd enjoy watching Brad talk your ear off about Minecraft for two hours, that kid tells everyone everything. Which brings us back to the need for a lot of explanations once Brad tells my dad about it."

"So, no dinner."

"No, but... Dad's not expecting me home until six. And your parents are at that reception, and Lee is out with Rachel." I pause, waiting for Noah to do the math.

Noah returns my raised eyebrow.

"So what you're saying is, we could still get dinner, it just needs to be early?" There's a gleam to his eye that tells me he knows that's not at all what I meant.

"Is _dinner_ still not a euphemism? Because what I was saying is that your house is unoccupied."

"That is an excellent point."

* * *

Sneaking around turns out surprisingly easy. Maybe it's just everyone being distracted by the holidays, but no one questions how often Noah disappears to meet up with "Harvard friends" or how much time I'm spending with "debate friends." Neither of which are technically lies—this _did_ all start at Harvard and Noah _did_ show up at the tournament, so I'd say I count as a Harvard friend and Noah as a member of the debate gang. More importantly, no one notices how often Noah and I have plans at the same times. And why would they, when around our families we go out of our way to keep each other at the same distance as before?

I know at some point we're going to have to tell everyone, but... not yet. Maybe in January, so we can enjoy the holidays before Lee inevitably freaks out. Better yet, maybe right before Noah goes back to campus, so if my dad grounds me for life I'll have time to talk him out of it before seeing Noah again is even a possibility. But right now I don't want to deal with our families or anyone else, not when we're just figuring this thing out ourselves. Besides—secrets are fun.

So we go to the movies a lot, only some of which we actually watch, we talk for hours at out-of-the-way coffee shops, and we discover hiking is an excellent way to disappear for a while. The actual sneaking around is also fun—Noah's hand on my knee below the Sunday lunch table, the stolen kisses when we find ourselves alone in a room, and the feigned squabbling to keep up appearances.

Of course, there are a few close calls, including an uncomfortable half hour spent hiding in Noah's closet while Lee drones on about college applications. Of all the times for him to decide to spend time with his brother... But at least I heard Lee coming down the hall in time to hide, and at least Lee doesn't mention _my_ college applications. Is it weird that I've started avoiding that topic with Noah? It's not like any of the Boston schools I applied to weren't on my list before all of this happened, but still, it just feels awkward. We can talk about it later, once I've actually heard back from schools—and once we've been dating for more than a week.

A few days after Christmas, Noah finally convinces me to let him take me on a motorcycle ride. It's exactly as terrifying as I'd expected, at least at first, but it's also thrilling. If I close my eyes, the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind make it easy to ignore everything but the feeling of being wrapped around Noah. He's so warm, so solid, and I'm reminded of how this all started. Not our first kiss, when I'd run away in a panic, but the second one, when his arms had tightened around me and I'd stopped caring how terrible an idea this was. Even after that kiss ended I'd stayed wrapped in his arms as long as I could, and it was that feeling I couldn't stop thinking about in the weeks afterward.

We ride as far as Palisades Park, walking along the beach with ice creams before I realize I need to get home soon. Ollie's throwing a party tonight and I promised to help him get ready, and now that Noah's tossed me into the ocean for stealing the last of his ice cream I also need a shower first.

Noah walks me to the door when we get to my house. "You're sure you don't want me to come help with set-up?" he asks as I open the door.

"Lee's going to be there, too."

"I see. And you don't think you'd be able to keep your hands off me if I'm around?" Noah leans lazily against the door frame, smirking.

" _That_ definitely won't be a problem if you keep acting this obnoxious. But I just think it'd be weird for you to show up early. It's not like you and Ollie are close friends."

"Fine," Noah says with an exaggerated sigh. "Do I have to ignore you during the party, too?"

"Ignore, no. But maybe a little less of this," I giggle as he plays with my hair.

"How about _this_?" Noah leans in to kiss me, the hand that had been playing with my hair sliding down my back to pull me closer. I indulge the kiss briefly before playfully pushing him away.

"Absolutely none of that."

"Well, in that case..." Noah pulls me back in for another, much longer, kiss.

"Taking advantage while you can?" I tease him.

"No, trying to convince you to ditch the party early. Extremely early. Did it work?"

My exasperated eyeroll doesn't dim his grin at all, and I finally push him out the door, laughing at the half-salute he gives me.

I drop my bag and hang up my jacket, then make it two steps into the living room before freezing. June is sitting on the couch, fixing me with a Sphinxian smile.

* * *

_**A/N: the original plan was to write this whole story from Noah's point of view, and then this chapter refused to work until I let Elle tell the story. She might hold on to the narrator job for a bit... we will see.** _


	14. Busted

"June! Why... when did you get here?" I stammer. The house should be empty right now. Dad's at work and Brad's at a winter break sports camp; there definitely was not supposed to be an audience for what just happened. Assuming June did see—my brain is frantically calculating the visibility of the doorway from June's spot on the couch, but trigonometry is tough in a panic.

"Brad wasn't feeling well and your dad couldn't leave work, so he asked me to pick him up. He said he tried to reach you, but you weren't answering your phone."

Shit. I wasn't exactly paying attention to my phone this afternoon. "Oh. I, uh, I guess I must have had the ringer off."

"I'm sure you were distracted. Or maybe the motorcycle was too loud." June smiles, her head tilted just so.

Yeah, June saw. Or heard. Or both. Either way, we're so busted.

"You just saw that, didn't you?" I ask, feeling my cheeks burn as I take a seat near June.

"Oh yes. I'd been wondering where Noah ran off to this afternoon, but I should have guessed."

"You knew?" This is getting worse and worse.

"Knew? No. Had strong suspicions? Of course. Elle, you do realize I'm rather familiar with my son's behavior, and only slightly less familiar with yours?"

"Were we that obvious?" I cringe.

"Maybe only to me. But Elle, Noah hasn't taken his eyes off you since he got home. Just like he didn't at Thanksgiving. And I'll give _you_ credit for being less blatant about it, but only a little. I was pretty sure something was going on with you two."

I chew at my lip before mustering the courage to look up at June with a sheepish nod. It's mortifying, but also kind of a relief to have her know.

"Does... do you think Lee knows, too?"

"I don't think so. But don't you think he should?" June's gaze is knowing.

"Yeah. I just haven't figured out how to tell him yet."

"You've got to tell him, Elle. He's going to be hurt if he finds out you've both been hiding this from him."

"I know. But we haven't been hiding it for long. This isn't... it's pretty recent. Like, this week recent."

"Not when you went to Boston?" June sounds somewhat surprised. "Only if you want to tell me, of course. It's okay if you don't."

I usually tell June about everything, boys included. She knows who I've dated, and even some of the crushes. Just not... this particular crush.

"I might as well. I mean, you'll find out from Noah anyway," I mutter.

"Oh no," June laughs. "That, you don't need to worry about. There's a reason I watch him so closely, because it's my only chance at finding out things like this."

Which makes me wonder if I even _should_ tell June more without asking Noah; it feels like going behind his back. But June already knows we're together, and if she knows _that_ I'd rather she also know it's recent, not something we've been lying about for ages.

"We did start talking after Boston, but we weren't, um, we weren't actually dating until Noah got home last week. And I know we have to tell Lee, but it's been so crazy with Christmas, and I know he's going to be upset. I was thinking, maybe if I tell him right before Noah goes back to campus, at least I'd have some time to get Lee more okay with it without Noah around."

"You're his best friend. Don't you think he wants you to be happy?"

Yeah, I'm his best friend, but Noah is the older brother whose shadow Lee's been trying to escape since he could walk, even when no one was comparing him to Noah but himself. Lee didn't need to add rule number nine for me to know Noah was off-limits. "I think Lee would rather I be happy with just about anyone else on the planet," I finally answer.

June doesn't contradict me. "But you _are_ happy."

"Yeah, I am," I admit, unable not to smile at the thought.

"Oh, Elle, it wasn't a question. It's obvious you are, both of you, and have been since he got home. The only question I had was why, and now that's answered. Lee may not be expecting this, but I know he'll come around."

I wish I shared June's confidence.

"But _you're_ okay with this?" I ask. It's not just Lee's reaction I've been worried about. June probably knows both of us better than anyone else, so if there's anyone whose concerns I'd have a hard time ignoring, it's hers.

"I'm always happy to see my sons happy, not to mention you. And I can't say I'm all that surprised," June smiles. But then her expression turns more serious. "But I do also know how young you are, and how tough long distance relationships are, especially with so much else going on. Finishing high school, starting college—all of it's a lot. So I just hope you'll be patient with each other, and with yourselves. Liking each other doesn't mean you can't hurt each other. The opposite, actually."

I'm not sure there's much I can say in response—June's right about all of it—so instead of replying I just lay my head on her shoulder and let her wrap me up in a hug. Hearing June acknowledge some of my own fears is weirdly comforting. And, maybe I can hope that if Noah and I do screw up, that if we do make a mess of things, June will force us to deal with it rather than let it turn everything awkward forever. For now, it's enough just to know she's rooting for us.

Brad eventually interrupts our hug, coming downstairs to say he feels better enough for a snack. I tell June I can take over babysitting duties until Dad gets home, but she insists I go on to Ollie's as planned, and I cringe at the reminder that she really did overhear my entire conversation with Noah. And then, I cringe even harder at what June has to say as she walks me to the door.

"Elle... all of those other talks we've had over the years. I realize I'm probably the last person you want to talk to about this, now, but I hope you know you can still come to me for anything. And I do hope you're being responsible."

It's the way June emphasizes _responsible_ that takes my blush to nuclear levels as I mumble of course and disappear out the door as quickly as possible. Because as much of a relief as having June, and not just my dad, to talk to has been these last couple years, it's beyond, beyond, _beyond_ mortifying when it's _her son_ she's telling me to be _responsible_ with. Not that she needs to worry about that. But I don't want to tell her _that_ , either. Because the entire subject of what Noah and I are or aren't doing is one I have absolutely no desire to even acknowledge exists to his mom, no matter who else she is to me.

Not that I can talk to my best friend about it, either, I realize with a sigh, not when that's _his brother_. His brother who has made it clear he'd rather Noah and I not even be friends, let alone engage in anything requiring _responsibility_. Ugh. I run through the rest of my closest friends. Rachel? Dating Lee, which brings me back to the previous issue. Duncan? Way too awkward. Ollie? Probably my best option, but still not ideal. But that's a problem for another day, because I can't talk to anyone about anything until I've told Lee. And maybe after that I won't need an alternative confidant at all, because I'll be dead.

On the way to Ollie's I call Noah to let him know we've been busted. He thinks it's hilarious, but I'm pretty sure I hear a touch of worry in his voice, too. Noah fears his mom to an absurd degree, and that knowledge was strangely helpful in those weeks after Thanksgiving—as much trouble as I was having believing Noah was serious, I also knew, in the back of my mind, that he knew what he'd be facing from his mom if he screwed this up. I was fairly confident Noah wouldn't intentionally mess around with my feelings, but I was _certain_ he wouldn't risk June's wrath.

I don't tell Noah everything about my conversation with June, though. It was awkward enough having her allude to anything intimate, it would be even worse to have to tell Noah _his mom_ wanted to be sure we were being _responsible_. I'm pretty sure he's about to get his own lecture from her, anyway, but I just... want no knowledge of it. At all.

* * *

June's right that we need to tell Lee soon, but there's someone else I need to tell even sooner—Dad. I doubt he'll like this news, but he'll like it even less if he catches us sneaking around. The question is _how_ to tell him.

I don't stay late at Ollie's party—trying to avoid Noah isn't any fun, but any time we end up hanging out with the same people I worry about whether we're acting too friendly or whether we're too conspicuously ignoring each other. It's exhausting, and Noah doesn't look like he's having a great time, either. In fact, he seems relieved when I tell him I've had enough of the party, but I also turn down his offer to go get dessert at the diner near school. Another time, definitely, but tonight I need to make sure Dad doesn't find out about me and Noah from anyone but me. If he doesn't take the news well, at least he'll have the night to calm down.

Dad's watching a movie in the living room when I get home. I scoop ice cream for both of us and plop down on the couch next to him, handing him one of the bowls. Dad accepts it with a quizzical look, then pauses the movie.

"You don't have to stop. We can watch together," I protest. I'd been hoping for another few minutes to gather my courage before jumping into the fire.

"We can get back to the movie once you've told me whatever it is you need to tell me," Dad chuckles.

"What? I can't just want to share some ice cream with you?"

"It's not the ice cream, it's that look on your face. What is it, Elle?"

Here goes, I guess. "I... I wanted to tell you I'm going to the beach tomorrow. In the morning."

"You know that's always okay with me. Just you and Lee, or the whole gang?"

I take a deep breath. "No, just me and Noah."

Dad's brow furrows. "Noah?"

"Yeah. That's... what I wanted to tell you. That Noah and I are, ah, we're kind of dating."

It sounds so weird and awkward to say it out loud like that, but I don't know how else to put it. We're dating. Seeing each other. Going steady. They all sound corny and old-fashioned, but "we're talking a lot and also trying to find as many opportunities to make out as possible" isn't any better.

Dad's short burst of laughter catches me by surprise. "Elle, just to be clear—you do mean Noah Flynn, and not some other Noah I haven't yet heard about? The same Noah you yelled at this weekend for taking the last slice of pie at lunch?"

It's possible Noah and I have been going too far in keeping up our usual squabbling in front of our families. Although, I really _was_ mad about that pie. I nod sheepishly at Dad. "Yeah, that Noah."

Dad sighs. "So, this is why the ice cream and the guilty face?"

I nod again. "I wasn't sure you'd... be okay with it. But I also didn't want to hide it from you." I'm nervously stirring my ice cream into melty soup, avoiding Dad's eyes.

"I can't say I'm thrilled," Dad admits with another sigh. "But it's not up to me, is it?"

I'm not sure how to respond, so I don't. He's right it's not up to him, but I still don't want him hating this.

After an uncomfortable silence, Dad sets his ice cream down and sits back, facing me. His grim expression softens. "Why don't you catch me up a little, Elle? Is this why you wanted to go to that tournament, to see Noah?"

"No—he had nothing to do with that, I swear. I hadn't even talked to him since he left, before that weekend. But we did end up hanging out while I was there, and then, I guess, we kept on talking after I went home."

Dad doesn't need to know that _hanging out_ included a really weird sleepover, and he definitely, definitely doesn't need to hear about the kissing.

"So that's when this started?"

"No. I mean, kind of, maybe, because before that we weren't talking. But it's only since he's gotten home that we've been, um, dating. And I should probably have said something earlier, but we haven't told Lee yet, or really anyone, and... it's still really new. But I don't want to hide it from you," I ramble uneasily.

"And do _you_ think this is a good idea?" Dad's voice is gentle, but I can't ignore the skepticism coloring his tone.

"Yeah, I do. I know he'll be leaving again soon, and I know Lee's going to hate this, and you probably don't love this either, but I tried just being friends with him and that just made missing him even worse. So... we're giving it a try."

"Elle, is now really the right time to be tying yourself down? You're seventeen, and you're about to head off to college."

"Tying myself down?" I give Dad an uneasy look. "It's not like we're engaged. We're just... dating."

"It seems pretty important to you, though. You don't usually get that look on your face to tell me you've got a date."

"I guess," I admit, squirming under Dad's unnerving stare. "But that's because it's... it's different, because it's Noah, and you know him, and we see the Flynns all the time. So it's not like it's just some guy from school I'm going to the movies with."

Dad gives me a long look. "That's my concern, honey. That this is different. And that that's because Noah is more to you than just some guy from school."

My cheeks burn, and it feels like I just walked into a trap. But I can't pretend Dad doesn't have a point.

"Look, Elle, I'm not trying to talk you out of anything. I just want you to make sure you're careful. That you've thought about this. That you're remembering the big picture."

"I know. And I _am_. This wasn't some rash decision." I'm trying not to sound defensive, but I hate that I'm having to tell Dad that. That I need to convince him.

"And you're sure Noah's the right guy to make these sacrifices for?"

"Sacrifices?" I repeat, confused.

"It's not easy, dating someone far away. You've got to trust each other. Be there for each other even when you can't _be_ there. I don't want you to miss out on your senior year pining away for Noah, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

I want to tell Dad he's wrong. To get mad at him for thinking so little of Noah. Because that's what he's saying without really saying, right? That he doesn't think Noah _is_ the right guy. That he doesn't think I should trust Noah, because he doesn't. But no words come out when I try to respond. Because even if I know Dad's wrong, I can't entirely blame him for thinking it, not when I had a lot of the same doubts at first.

"I think he is," I finally reply. "And—even if it might not work out, I still want to try. But I don't want you to worry, and that's why I'm telling you."

"I'm your dad, Elle, it's my job to worry." Dad's eyes crinkle at the corners as he chuckles. "But I also trust you. So if you think this is a good idea, if this is what you want, I'm not going to try to change your mind. Just—be careful. That's all."

Dad and I leave it at that, but his questions keep nagging at me as I curl up next to him while he finishes his movie. I can't really come up with any better answers than _yes—but_. Yes, Noah's older and he's got a reputation—but I've known him long enough to know the truth behind that reputation. Yes, Noah's leaving again in a few short weeks—but I've realized that I can either date him and miss him, or keep him at arm's length and be miserable on top of missing him. Neither is great but the second one is worse. Yes, I'm going to have decisions to make about college soon—but I decided where to apply before any of this started, and it's not like the Boston options are bad. Not that I officially _have_ any options yet, and waiting for decisions is stressful enough without adding Noah to the mix, so I'm just... not going to think about that part until I need to.

Besides, I have more urgent things to worry about... like how to break the news to Lee. I know June won't say anything until I do, but she's right that waiting will only make it worse. So... soon. I'll tell Lee soon. Somehow.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for Noah's absence. He was supposed to be in the second half of the chapter, and then I did the thing where the chapter unexpectedly becomes much longer than planned. So... you get this update now, and Noah in the next chapter.**


	15. Not a Fair Fight

As we sit on the beach the next morning, Noah and I keep trying to come up with plans for telling Lee. It's just... there are a lot of distractions. Distractions like the surfers in the distance and the impressive sand castle some kids are building and the fact that kissing is a lot more fun than talking about Lee. Okay, so mostly that last one.

Noah thinks we should tell him now and get it over with, but I'm not ready. I don't share June's confidence that Lee will be happy I'm happy, or Noah's shrugging nonchalance that Lee will just have to get over it, and I don't want the fallout from Lee finding out to spoil any more of Noah's time home than it has to. I know Lee, and I know how major a red line I've crossed, at least in his mind. It's an unfair line and not one I regret crossing, but that won't make his reaction any easier to deal with. So, not yet.

I do feel a pang of guilt later, when Lee asks if I want to hang out and comments how little he's seen me lately. I mumble something about having been busy with college applications and babysitting Brad, but Lee doesn't actually seem overly concerned. Besides, he's been busy with Rachel. Lee and I end up spending the afternoon playing video games at his house, and I mostly manage not to think about the secret he has no idea I'm keeping from him. At least, not until June overhears me telling Lee I can't stay for dinner because I've got plans with debate friends. It's clear from June's pointed look that she knows I'm lying, but right now I'd rather deal with her disapproval than Lee's.

My _plans with debate friends_ are in fact a holiday reception being hosted by the Harvard Club of LA for current students, and as I walk in with Noah it occurs to me this is our first time socializing as a couple. Well, as a real couple, although these days I find myself wondering exactly when during the debate tournament our fake relationship turned real. If I'm being honest, I knew within minutes of asking Noah for that favor how much trouble I'd just gotten myself into. Pretending to date Noah seemed like an easy solution to my Jamie problem when I was still on the plane. I was over my crush on Noah, I told myself. Totally, completely over it. And then I got to Harvard, saw Noah, and realized what a lie that had been.

At first it's thrilling not to be hiding, especially after having spent last night avoiding each other at Ollie's party. I can lean into Noah's warmth whenever I want, and when he smiles at me I don't need to worry whether anyone's watching. Because that smile of his—we'd be found out immediately if anyone _did_ see. That, and the way his hand keeps finding its way to my arm or my back, rarely breaking contact. I'm not even sure he realizes he's doing it, but I love it. And then, when he introduces me to some friends as _my girlfriend Elle_ , I don't know what's better—hearing him say it, or his sheepish expression seeing my startled reaction. Either way, it takes a minute for the butterflies in my stomach to settle down. Maybe we _should_ tell Lee as soon as possible, just to get to spend more time like this.

But that warm glow starts to fade, replaced by a growing uneasiness. Meeting Noah's friends is fun, but it's also making it clear he's got this whole new life I know little about and don't belong in. Every conversation is a torrent of unfamiliar names and places and jokes I'm not in on, even if I try to laugh along. And maybe Noah isn't noticing the smirks I get from some of his friends when they find out I'm still in high school, but I definitely am; even when Noah's talking to fellow freshmen I feel incredibly young and clueless. And _everyone_ knows him—especially the girls. I shouldn't be surprised, it's no different than high school, really, except it _is_. I never loved watching my classmates fawn over him, but it's entirely different and worse to witness it now, like this. Not that Noah's encouraging any of it, but it's a reminder that in a few weeks we'll be thousands of miles apart and he'll still be surrounded by these girls and hundreds more like them.

By the time the reception is winding down my insecurities are working overtime to convince me that Noah and I are doomed. Maybe it's working now, but once Noah goes back to Harvard he won't want to waste time on me when he could be running with this crowd instead. This crowd, and these girls. No, _women_ , my insecurities pile on—bolder, more mature, college _women_ who apparently all spent their high school years modeling in Paris or going on research expeditions in Nepal or training for the Olympics. There must be _some_ normal girls at Harvard, but you wouldn't know it from all these _friends_ of Noah's. That's what he calls them, and I can't help noticing it's how he introduces me, too—no more calling me his girlfriend, suddenly I'm just his _friend_. It would be easier to tell myself I'm being ridiculous if this Noah weren't so familiar from a hundred high school memories.

I'm being unfair to Noah—I know that. It's not that I don't believe his feelings are sincere, or even that I think he'd cheat, but at some point he's going to get fed up with the distance and realize he could be having a lot more fun without a high-schooler dragging him down from three thousand miles away. I know I'm overreacting, I know I'm catastrophizing, but telling myself that doesn't slow the downward spiral of my thoughts, especially not when Noah gets pulled away for a picture and I find myself sitting alone, waiting, watching him laugh with his friends over yet another private joke. Tonight has turned into an unwelcome reminder that Noah will be gone again in a few weeks, back to a whole separate world I can't possibly compete with, and that I'll be left here to deal with the Lee fallout.

But there's no comfort in having been right about how risky of an idea dating Noah was, because now it's too late. Now that I've admitted to myself how much I like him, now that I know how giddily happy being with him makes me, I'm not sure how to stuff those feelings back into their hiding places. Everything about this past week has been perfect—everything, except the knowledge of how soon he'll be gone. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm falling for Noah just as quickly as I'm understanding how doomed our relationship is. The question is what to do about those warring realizations.

Noah must sense something's wrong when he returns from the group picture. "You feeling okay?" he asks, his expression concerned and his hand once again warm against my back.

"Yeah. Just tired." I don't want to get into what's bothering me, especially not here.

"Do you want to head home? There's a group going for drinks, but we don't have to."

Great. Because it definitely won't be humiliating to be stopped at the door as soon as the bouncer sees my inconveniently honest ID.

"You don't need to skip it. I can get a cab home."

Noah laughs. "My plan for tonight was to hang out with you. So if you don't want to stay out, I'm going with you."

"You really don't have to, Noah," I snap, frustrated. "Go have fun with your friends."

"Wait—what's up? Are you mad at me?" Noah asks, confused.

"I'm just tired, and I want to go home. That doesn't mean you need to ditch your friends."

"Elle, no one's going to be offended I'd rather be with my girlfriend than the same idiots I see all the time on campus."

"Are you sure they know that's who I am?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

"What?" Noah looks thoroughly lost.

I wish I hadn't said anything. "You were pretty careful not to mention that part to any of the girls," I finally mutter.

Noah's expression remains bewildered.

"Wait, is _that_ why you're upset? Elle, you reacted all weird when I called you that, so I stopped. I figured you didn't like it."

I can't help laughing. "You thought I _didn't_ like being called your girlfriend?"

"I don't know," Noah frowns, brows knit. "I mean, you seemed embarrassed when I said it."

Noah's puzzlement is so clearly genuine that I have no choice but to believe him, my grumpiness waning. Maybe I'd forgotten how little dating experience he has. Plenty of other experience, but not the kind that teaches you girlfriends like to hear themselves called that.

"I _was_ embarrassed. But only because I was surprised and didn't want to seem pathetic in front of your friends. You know, like I'm some sappy dork."

"Why were you surprised?" Noah looks even more confused now. He really is clueless and it's kind of adorable.

"Calling someone that can be kind of a big deal. It was... nice to hear. But then you never called me that to any of the girls."

Noah's face falls. "Elle, I wasn't trying to hide anything."

"I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that. I guess I just... felt intimidated. I mean, god, do you have any boring friends? Or even just, I don't know, friends that aren't hitting on you?" I intended it as a joke, but it comes out bitter instead.

Noah's eyebrows rise. "I doubt any of those girls were hitting on me, but so what? Did you think _I_ was hitting on them?"

He's right. He wasn't. It's not his fault this evening has highlighted the impossibility of our relationship.

"No," I concede. "It's just—being here tonight... you have this whole life at Harvard. A life I don't fit into. Friends I can't compete with. Girls I can't compete with," I add in an embarrassed mumble.

Noah lets out a frustrated sigh. "You know I've already been to Harvard, right? I'm aware there are girls there, and I'm aware some of them are awesome. And all those girls were around when I spent the last month trying to figure out how to convince you to give us a chance."

I can feel my cheeks burning and I know I'm being an idiot, but some stupid, stubborn part of my brain is refusing to drop this.

"I guess I just don't see why you'd want to waste your time on a long-distance relationship when there's so much more you could be doing," I finally admit, avoiding Noah's eyes. "You're in college. You're at _Harvard_. You don't need a high schooler dragging you down."

"Look, Elle, why don't you let _me_ decide how I want to spend my time? And for what it's worth, I wasn't planning on staying in my room every weekend, and I wasn't thinking you would, either. Just... call me when you get home. Because having you to talk to these last few weeks has been the opposite of dragging me down."

There's no way I'm winning this debate, if I even wanted to. It's not a fair fight, not when Noah's voice alone is enough to make my heart race and certainly not when he uses it to say things like that. And I know that if I look up, if I let myself stop hiding from his gaze, I'll give up any remaining chance of shielding my heart from the inevitable heartbreak. So I do—I look up, and I watch Noah's eyes light up when he sees the sheepish smile breaking across my face.

"Yeah, I think I can do that. Call you, I mean."

"Although, if you could also avoid blackmailing anyone into pretending to be your boyfriend the next time some guy is bothering you at a party, I'd appreciate it," Noah adds with a smirk. "Because that job is taken."

Like I said—this isn't a fair fight. He's too good for me to stand a chance.

"I don't know. That worked out pretty well the last time I tried it," I smirk back.

"It was less the blackmail and more the jumping into my bed that did it, if we're being honest."

He fully deserves the punch that lands on his shoulder. "I _tripped_ , jackass."

"Sure you did."

* * *

_**A/N: Happy New Year! 2020 has been... something. Definitely something. Wishing everyone all the best for 2021, and thanking you for your enthusiasm for this story!** _


	16. Very Good Odds

"Wait—is this mine?" Noah asks, holding a well-worn Dodgers cap. "I thought I'd lost this. How did it end up here?"

"I, uh, I may have forgotten to return it." I admit with a laugh. I'm sitting on my bed, watching as Noah wanders my room. I'm not sure why, because that definitely wasn't why I suggested we hang out at my house.

"After stealing it from me?"

" _No_. After you lent it to me. That day your dad took us out on the boat and my hat fell overboard."

"But then you kept it. You stole my hat, Shelly. My most treasured, favorite hat. I can't believe you'd betray me like that."

He's not doing a great job of pretending to be outraged.

"I didn't steal it, I _forgot to return it_."

"I'm really not seeing the difference."

I leap off the bed so I can snatch the cap from his hands, then immediately hold it back out to him, mustering my most exasperated expression. "Hey, Noah, here's that hat back."

"Nah, you keep it. It looks better on you." Noah takes the cap from me and drops it on my head, and I can feel myself blushing even as I roll my eyes at him.

"Would you quit poking around my room? What are you looking for, anyway?"

I'm pretty sure anything I wouldn't want Noah to stumble upon is safely hidden away, but Noah wandering my room means Noah not sitting on the bed with me, and that means a waste of valuable privacy before my dad gets home.

"I hear you pacing around this place every time I call. Just trying to get a mental image for the next time."

His inspection of my bookshelves complete, Noah's attention turns to my desk. Which—damn it. Apparently not _all_ the stuff I don't want him seeing is hidden away, because there, right at the top of a stack of papers, is a print out of an application I submitted not long ago. Submitted to Harvard, if we're being specific. There's no point hoping Noah won't notice, because he's already picked it up.

"I thought you promised to delete this. Something about how you didn't want another three years of me saving you from yourself." He's smirking, but there's also something cautiously hopeful about his expression.

"I believe it was you _meddling_ I said I'd had enough of."

"Once again... not seeing the difference."

"Are you trying to make me change my mind?" I threaten.

Noah just shakes his head, his smug expression turning sincere. "So, you did apply?"

Guess I hadn't quite mentioned that to him yet.

"Me and fifty thousand others," I shrug, picking at a loose thread on my quilt rather than meeting his eyes. "That doesn't mean I'll get in."

"I've met the kind of idiots Harvard admitted last year. I like your odds."

"Yeah, we'll see about that." My odds are terrible, and I know he knows it, but I appreciate the sentiment.

"Want me to break into the admissions office and make sure your file ends up in the right pile?"

"That'd be helpful. Kind of a shame I won't get to see you after you're expelled, though."

"Guess that would defeat the purpose, huh?"

Noah's grinning, but something about his joke bothers me.

"It's not... I didn't apply because of you." I finally say. "Harvard's always been on my list."

"I know that, Elle. I was talking about _my_ purpose—for sneaking into the admissions office. Not that you need my help to get in, either. I'm just saying... I'm glad you applied. Even though it had nothing to do with me."

It's true Harvard was already on my list long before the debate tournament. It's also true I added a few schools to that list this fall. Schools located in the general Boston area, even if I did swear to myself my interest in them had nothing to do with their location.

"Are you ever going to tell me who else is on that list?" Noah eventually asks.

"So you can break into their admissions offices, too?"

"Maybe," Noah teases back. "Or maybe I just want to know."

I've been avoiding this subject for weeks, but there's no good way to dodge Noah's direct question. Especially not when he's still giving me that sheepish hopeful look.

"Let's see. Most of the UCs, of course, except UCLA, because Dad would want me to live at home. Stanford, even if that's another total long shot. Duke. Chicago. UVA. Hopkins. Georgetown. Tufts. BU and BC." I mumble those last two, realizing I just named three Boston-area schools in a row. "Pomona, Amherst, Carleton, Swarthmore, Wellesley, Williams, because I had this freak out that I was only applying to huge schools and maybe I don't want that. Oh, and the University of Washington, to make Dad happy." 

"I like _some_ of those very much."

Noah's slyly grinning, but I don't feel like dissecting that list in any more detail right now. Two weeks is too soon to talk about whether we'll want to be in the same city next fall. Not too soon for me to want it, but too soon to admit it.

"Yes, well, I'm declaring today a no-college-applications-stress day. No, wait, this whole week. So stop snooping and come over here."

"We could talk about tomorrow instead. And all the things we could do for New Year's that _don't_ involve Lee's party." Noah gives me a pointed look as he stretches out next to me on the bed. He may want a mental image of my room to save for our calls, but the sight I want to remember is of Noah right where he is now.

"We have to. I told you, I can't not be there, Lee would never understand. And your parents want you to stick around, too."

"Because babysitting Lee and avoiding you is exactly how I was hoping to spend my evening."

"It's not _babysitting_. They just know you love keeping me and Lee from having any fun at parties."

"Yeah, except now hanging out with Lee means _I_ don't get to have any fun," Noah mutters, pulling me closer. "Because you won't let me do anything like this." And he's not playing fair, because his lips have landed at that spot on my shoulder that deactivates my brain.

"It's just one night. And Lee won't pay us any attention once he's had a few. He and Rachel get _really_ handsy when they drink."

My shoulder is left lonely as Noah pulls away with a shudder. "Okay, mood killed. _Never_ say that word in connection with Lee again. And thanks for reminding me that not only will I have to keep my hands off you, I'll also have to witness Lee with Rachel."

As much as I look forward to telling Noah the truth about Lee's New Year's party, I need to keep his grumpiness genuine a little longer so our parents don't get suspicious.

"How about, instead of complaining about having to be around Lee tomorrow, we take advantage of being alone right now?"

This time I'm not the one playing fair, because I don't actually give Noah a chance to reply before kissing him. But between discussing college applications, dealing with our Lee problem, and making out, there's no debate how I'd rather spend my afternoon.

* * *

**New Year's Eve**

I get to the Flynn house just as June and Matthew are getting ready to leave, and I promise them once more that it really is just a small group of friends Lee has invited tonight and that I won't let anyone do anything stupid. Matthew's firm is sponsoring a charity gala at a hotel downtown and he and June are staying an extra night, so we won't see them again until the weekend.

I find Noah in the den playing video games and snatch the controller from him as I sit down.

"Yes, Shelly, of course I don't mind letting you have a turn," he grumbles. "Especially not when you asked so nicely."

"You're terrible at this game and it hurts my soul to watch you being so terrible at it."

Noah retaliates by tickling the exact spot at my side that always makes me yelp, and there are serious downsides to dating someone who's known me this long. My attempt to fight back is thwarted by the sudden and extremely distracting appearance of Noah's lips on mine, but I only indulge the kiss briefly before pushing him away. We're not alone in the house, at least not yet.

"So, what kind of set-up do we need to do?" Noah asks, letting me have the controller back.

"None."

"Lee wasn't lying about this being a small party?"

"Oh, it's definitely a small party," I laugh.

Noah frowns, but before he can say anything Lee comes thundering down the stairs and into the den.

"They're gone, right?"

"Five minutes ago. Coast is clear." I assure him.

"Awesome. You're the best, you know?" Lee leans over the back of the couch to give me a quick hug before turning to Noah. "And _you_ are now free of buzz-killing duties, so merry Christmas or something."

Lee turns and disappears from the den as quickly as he'd arrived, and I yell "You owe me big time!" just before the door to the garage slams.

"Where's he going?" Noah asks, brows drawn in confusion.

"Lee has a date."

"Lee's ditching his own party?"

"There is no party. Lee and Rachel have concert tickets and a fancy hotel booked, but Rachel didn't want to tell her parents, because they're still not cool with sleepovers. So... if anyone asks, they're both here tonight, hanging out very platonically with me and several other friends, and definitely not alone and naked —"

"Stop," Noah interrupts, grimacing. "That's already too much information. So no one's actually coming over here?" He still sounds confused.

"Nope," I grin.

"So _we_ can go out now?"

I'm tempted to reply we could also just stay in, with the house to ourselves, but I'm not feeling quite that bold. So, instead, I just nod.

"If you'd told me that a little earlier, I'd have planned something."

"Yeah, but I was enjoying how grumpy you were about having to spend New Year's with Lee. And besides, I've already got a plan."

Not that figuring out those plans was easy. I don't have the budget or the believable fake ID for most of the New Year's events at restaurants and clubs downtown. There are classmates having parties, but that would require going public, and that can't happen until we've told Lee. Just going to a movie theater or the arcade or the same pizza place we've each been a hundred times doesn't feel special enough. But then I saw a giant outdoor screen being set up, and suddenly I had a plan. I've got a picnic dinner and an old blanket to sit on packed in my car, and the second movie should be over just in time to watch the fireworks.

"Does this plan involve Lee? Or any other reason for you to keep me three feet away at all times?" Noah asks suspiciously.

"Nobody else, promise. Do you remember that park near school? They've got an outdoor screen up for the holidays, and tonight's an _Avengers_ / _Guardians_ doubleheader. And I seem to recall you having a certain fondness for Black Widow."

" _I_ seem to recall you keeping up running commentary about which of the Chrises is the best." Noah points out.

"It's an important debate," I shrug. "But if it bothers you, you'll just have to distract me."

"Fine," Noah laughs. "So that's the plan?"

"That's the first part, and then we can stay to watch the fireworks. Because you know I can't miss those."

"Of course not. But I know a better place to watch from," Noah promises.

Which turns out not to be true, because the Hollywood sign isn't nearly as close to the fireworks as the park would have been. It is, however, far more secluded, something we make the most of while waiting for midnight.

"You've got to stop doing that or I'm going to forget where we are." Noah half-laughs, half-groans, one hand sliding over mine.

I don't want to stop. I _want_ to forget where we are, want to get carried away. But I do stop. Not because of our location, but because I still can't silence that voice in my head convinced that sleeping with Noah destroys any chance of escaping heartbreak when this ends. And maybe I'm kidding myself pretending that chance hasn't already gone to zero, but that's still what makes me hesitate whenever we find ourselves close.

Not because I haven't had sex before. Well, I haven't, but that isn't really the reason. Ian and I almost did, probably would have if the fight that led to our breakup had sparked a little later, and the idea of sleeping with him never felt this momentous. There was no voice warning of a point of no return. We were crazy infatuated, we'd been dating a while, and, well, I wanted to. I'm sure he did too. But I wasn't under any illusion we'd be together forever, and that actually made the decision easier. We'd have some fun, and then, years from now, when the topic of firsts came up in drunken late-night gossip with friends, I'd say it was this cute guy I dated for a while in high school and then I'd laughingly wonder what he was up to these days. Ian and I weren't destined to be major chapters in each other's lives, and I knew it.

Noah's a different story. I may not know where we'll be in ten years or who we'll be to each other by then, but still I know he'll never be a minor chapter. I've known him too long and our families are too close; no matter how our relationship ends, he's always going to be in my life. And, as stubbornly as I'm refusing to think too closely about my feelings for Noah, I can't pretend they're casual. I doubt dating him will ever be just a funny story of my past life I can tell without feeling my heart twist, whether the memories are warm or bitter by then. And maybe it doesn't make sense, maybe I'm being ridiculous, but somehow I still know this will change things. That letting go physically means accepting I've let go emotionally.

Which isn't to say I don't want to—the opposite, so very much the opposite—just that I can't pretend this isn't a big deal. And Noah's frustrating refusal to push me isn't making things any easier. Oh, he'll gladly follow wherever I lead, but only after I shift the boundaries. And that's... intimidating. It's one thing to know I want to, to be certain I'd agree without hesitation if asked; it's another to have to take the initiative. To make the decision.

So when Noah says that, I don't push us further, but I also don't push him away. I stay curled against him, listening to the drumbeat of his heart slow as we both catch our breaths. It's so quiet up here, the sounds of the city just a faint background, that every breath and heartbeat seems to resonate. Lee and I always assumed there was a girl or a party we weren't cool enough to know about involved when Noah would disappear on his motorcycle, but now I wonder how often he was escaping here.

Eventually the stillness is disturbed by an explosive crackling and I realize the fireworks have started. Neither of us says anything as we untangle ourselves and sit up to watch the bursts of color arc and fall back to earth. The late-night chill is harder to ignore now that we aren't quite so distractedly wrapped around each other, and I gratefully accept Noah's offer of his jacket. It smells like him, and maybe there's some way I could trick him into forgetting it at my house before flying back to Boston.

"We should probably head home before you freeze," Noah comments once the last of the fireworks have faded into the night sky. "And your dad's going to start wondering where you are."

Ah, yes. That. Now's probably a good time to clear up any misunderstandings.

"No, he's not. And I was planning on being exactly where he thinks I am."

Noah frowns. "What?"

"I'm at your house right now, remember? Hanging out with Lee and the rest of the gang."

"Your dad doesn't know?"

"Of course not. He's friends with Rachel's dad, and Rachel's parents need to think we're all at your house tonight. Which means... my dad needs to think that too."

"So you're saying I'm _not_ dropping you off at your house," Noah says slowly, a gleam appearing in his eye.

I shake my head, biting back a smile.

"And instead we're going back to my house, because it's very important that you spend the night there."

"Yes. _Extremely_ important."

"My house, with only the other fake guests at Lee's fake party for company," Noah continues before his expression turns puzzled again. "Wait—what does Lee think you're doing tonight? If you can't go home?"

"I told him I'd hang out at your house, play video games, sleep on his couch, and go home in the morning. He thinks I'm doing him a _huge_ favor by giving up my New Year's Eve so he can be alone with Rachel. And I've been very clear that he's going to owe me big time for this."

"And what does Lee think _I'm_ doing?" Noah still sounds confused.

"I don't think he thought that far. He probably assumed you'd go party with friends once you were freed from babysitting duty."

"So you're saying Lee carefully engineered this whole scheme to give us the house to ourselves."

I laugh. "He didn't see it that way, but yeah."

Noah's eyes close, and he stays quiet an oddly long time.

"You okay there?" I finally ask.

"Ssshh. This is the most I've ever loved Lee and I need to preserve the memory for the next time I want to kill him."

"You're hilarious. You know, the longer we sit here talking about Lee, the less time we get to take advantage of his accidental gift."

"Excellent point. Leaving immediately." Noah springs to his feet, pulling me up with him, and I giggle as I attempt to keep up with him. We're both out of breath by the time we've raced each other to the car.

"Okay, exhausting ourselves _before_ we get to your house seems dumb in retrospect," I laugh, then feel my cheeks blaze as I realize how entirely unsubtle my comment was.

Noah grins back at me, but then his expression sobers.

"You know I wasn't assuming—I mean, just because you're staying over, that doesn't mean anything has to... happen, or that I was expecting —"

I interrupt Noah's awkward rambling with a squeeze to his hand, my other hand reaching to trace the curve of his cheek. There's just enough light to see the uncertainty in his eyes, and it's his hesitation that finally does away with mine.

"I know you weren't. I wasn't assuming anything either. But, I _was_ hoping..." I let my voice trail off, watching his expression shift from earnest to playful.

"You were hoping, huh?"

"Yeah, I was," I admit, returning his smirk. "And I like my odds."

**~~~~**


	17. Almost Perfect

**_A/N: Our original narrator returns._ **

The first time I wake up on New Year's day is damn near perfect. Early-morning sun is streaming through my windows, and when I roll over to escape the glare I remember with a jolt why I never got around to closing my shades. The patch of bed I've just tried to roll over into is already occupied by a sleeping Elle, and with her soft sigh as my arm wraps around her the memories from last night rush back at me. And while waking up lost in visions of Elle isn't rare these days, this time those memories aren't just dreams.

Of course I'd thought about it. Of course I'd hoped we'd get there eventually. I'd be lying if I denied that, and I don't know why I would. But I needed the decision to be Elle's, because I need her to know this isn't why I'm with her. She's made too many jokes about my reputation for me to be confident they really are just jokes to her, that some part of her doesn't still think this is just a hookup to me. So, our pace had to be Elle's to set, and I wasn't going to rush her. But if this is how Elle decided to celebrate the new year, well, I definitely had no objections.

Then again, Elle's been setting the pace for us since she showed up at Harvard. She's the one who got us into this mess in the first place, she's the one who said we couldn't let it happen again, and she's the one who wove herself into my days anyway with a steady stream of nonsense messages. And then she did it all over again at Thanksgiving, hitting the brakes just as soon as she'd made it impossible to ignore the direction my feelings had taken. But maybe that pause was for the best, because it gave us a month to let this odd new relationship evolve free of anyone else's attention or expectations.

And I don't just mean _relationship_ in the romantic sense, but on a more basic level too. Elle's been in my life forever, but mostly indirectly. She and Lee have their crazy friendship, she has her special place in my mom's heart, but between us there's always been more of a distance. A distance I sometimes intentionally reinforced, because she was off limits and I knew it. So, in that month of calls, it was also our friendship we were exploring, transforming.

Which is why finding her waiting at the airport was such a relief. It was one thing just being attracted to someone off-limits; distracting myself wasn't that difficult, especially once I left for Harvard. Things got tougher after Elle visited; those memories were harder to ignore, though I did my best until Thanksgiving happened. But by the time I was heading home for Christmas, Elle had made herself a necessary part of my day. I no longer knew how to distract myself from her, which was going to be a problem if she still wasn't willing to give us a chance. Good thing Elle wasted no time informing me she'd changed her mind.

It's too early to wake Elle up, not when it's been so few hours since we fell asleep, but the temptation to brush the hair from her face proves irresistible, and from there my hand refuses to break contact, sliding from her hair to her shoulder to her waist. She's wearing a tee shirt of mine, and after spending weeks last year trying to forget the sight of Elle sleeping in my bed in a similar outfit, this vision I have no intention of forgetting. Elle mumbles something, and for a second I wonder if I've woken her. It wouldn't be a tragedy if she did decide to wake up—I'm sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves—but I'm in no hurry. Waking up next to Elle might be the best possible way to start the year and I wouldn't mind repeating the experience after a little more sleep.

Except—the second time I wake up on New Year's is as awful as the first was excellent. By the time I understand that the noise waking me is someone jogging up the stairs and that the voice calling me is Lee's, it's too late. I sit up in a rush, realizing what's about to happen but unable to stop it. There's no time to warn Elle, no time to leap for my door to lock it, just barely enough time to be grateful that at least we're both somewhat clothed. Elle's still sound asleep, curled up beside me, and in a flash of panicked inspiration I yank the duvet higher. Maybe between the mess of covers and pillows Lee somehow won't notice I'm not alone.

My mind is still racing to catch up to the impending disaster as Lee appears at my door. My open door, because why would I have closed it with no one else home? And maybe Elle miraculously _isn't_ visible, because Lee's expression registers no reaction as he looks in.

"Have you seen Elle?" Lee sounds agitated, his demeanor bleak.

_Play dumb. Play dumb. Play dumb._ "Elle?" I hope I'm managing to sound half-asleep instead of alarmed.

"Yes, Elle," Lee snaps. "Did she go home already?"

And maybe if Elle hadn't chosen that moment to wake up, I could have shrugged disinterestedly and gotten Lee out of my room, and maybe after that Elle could have snuck out with Lee none the wiser. But of course the third repetition of her name _does_ wake her, and she drowsily sits up, smiling softly at me, not realizing we've got company. Lee's eyes go wider and darker than I've ever seen them, and for a second he's struck dumb, mouth hanging open. Then, he erupts.

"What. The. FUCK. Are you fucking kidding me? _ELLE?_ What the hell is wrong with — I mean, there's really no fucking bottom for you? Not even — how — how could you even — " Lee's words grow incoherent as anger chokes him.

Elle's gone ashen, frozen in horror, wordlessly watching as I scramble out of bed and Lee lunges at me, eyes ablaze. I manage to grab his arms, trying to trap him in a bearhug, but Lee shakes me off with a vicious elbow jab before launching himself at me again, still yelling disjointedly as I attempt again to straitjacket him with my arms.

" _STOP,_ " Elle suddenly screams, breaking out of her horrified daze. "Lee, STOP _._ Just _STOP._ "

Lee wrenches himself from my grip again, retreating a few steps, a savage glare still fixed on me.

"I just never thought you could sink this low," Lee finally spits. "Fuck around with whoever else you want, but not Elle."

Blood rushes at my temples and I can feel my nails pressing into my palms as my fists clench. I'm struggling to contain my reaction, but I have to. Because if I don't, if I yell back, if I swing at Lee just to get him to shut up, I know this ends in disaster. Rarely have I seen Lee so angry, and there's a vicious glint in his eye like he _wants_ me to take that swing, like he's goading me into losing control. But I don't, and instead it's Elle that grabs Lee, pulling him away from me and forcing him to look at her.

"Lee, _stop it_. It's not what you think. And it's my fault, I should have told you. I... I just didn't know how." Elle's voice cracks on the _how_ , and she looks like she's barely holding back tears.

"It's not what I think?" Lee echoes incredulously, his face flushing redder by the second. "What, you got lost sleepwalking and wandered in here? You're in his bed wearing his fucking shirt and you're going to tell me it's not what I think?"

I take a step at Lee, but Elle again inserts herself between us, gripping his arms and begging him to listen.

"Lee, I'm _dating_ him. Noah and I, we're together. And I should have —"

Lee jerks his arm free of Elle, sneering as he interrupts her. "Oh, is that what he told you? Before or after getting you drunk?"

I lose it, Lee's nastiness destroying whatever restraint I had left. I sidestep Elle and yank Lee away from her, pinning him to the wall by the door. " _Stop._ "

Lee tries to shove me away, but I clamp his arms tighter, my shoulder pressing him into the wall. "You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about and you're so fucking far over the line. So just _stop_. Just shut up before you say another word. Because if you fucking believe I'd ever take advantage of Elle... "

Lee's eyes flash menacingly, but he stops struggling against my grip. I'm not sure how I was planning to finish that last sentence. He's my brother, so there's no threat worthy of his behavior that I could actually follow through on. Except Lee clearly feels no such brotherly compassion, not if he can behave this way and say this shit.

Elle interrupts our standoff, one hand on my back, the warmth of her touch helping me regain control. But there's no warmth in the look she gives Lee.

"Noah's right, Lee. You need to shut up, and you need to let me talk. I owe you explanations, but not until you've calmed down. And _you_ owe Noah an apology."

"Yeah, we'll fucking see about that." Lee scoffs bitterly.

Elle can probably see the fury again overtaking me, because she turns to me next. "Noah, Lee and I need to talk. Just the two of us."

I stare back at both of them before finally releasing Lee. I don't trust him not to keep being a total fucking ass to Elle, but I also don't trust myself not to put him through a wall if he says another word, so Elle's right, I have to let her handle this.

Lee shoots me another venomous look before stalking from the room. "I'll be downstairs."

Elle crumbles once the door slams behind Lee, the determination she'd had just a moment ago gone. She falls back against the wall, her eyes closed as she lets herself slide to the ground. I sit myself next to her, back also pressed against the wall.

"Could have been worse. At least we weren't naked," Elle eventually mutters, the ghost of a smile peeking through her grim expression.

I can't help laughing, as much out of relief that she's willing to crack a joke about this disaster as anything else.

"Not quite how I wanted this morning to go, though," I admit, returning her wry smile.

"You were hoping we _would_ be naked?"

"Not what I meant, Shelly. But... also true."

Elle laughs, but then her expression turns grim again. "I should go talk to Lee," she finally says.

"You don't have to. He's being a jackass and he needs to get over it."

"No—I need to do this. This is my fault. I shouldn't have waited to tell him. I should have listened to you."

_I_ should have listened to Elle about how poorly Lee would take this news. Not that I expected him to be thrilled, but I never imagined this.

"It's _not_ your fault. Not telling him doesn't excuse any of what he said."

"I know it doesn't. But I can't leave it like this. I have to go talk to him." Elle pushes off from the wall, standing back up.

"If I can make a suggestion... maybe with more clothes on? _I_ like this outfit very much, but I don't think Lee did."

Elle blushes, laughing. "Yeah, that was the plan." She grabs her bag, disappearing into the bathroom. She's dressed when she returns, and when she tries to hand me the shirt she slept in I refuse with as much of a smirk as I think she'll let me get away with right now.

"That's yours now."

Elle rolls her eyes, then hesitates a second before tucking the shirt behind one of my pillows.

"Fine. But do you mind if I keep it here? For next time."

I do not mind. I do not mind that _at all_ , and judging from Elle's grin she doesn't need me to say it out loud.

"Alright. Time to deal with Lee." Elle comments, her grin gone.

"Do you want backup?"

Elle shakes her head. "I don't think it'd help. But I'll come back up here after. I'm not letting Lee ruin today."

"Breakfast after? Somewhere Lee can't find us?"

"Yeah. I'd like that." Elle gives me a last soft smile before leaving my room.

**~~~~**

**_A/N: Lee giveth, and Lee taketh away. Or at least Lee tryeth. You know how by the time_ Birthday Flowers _happens, Lee's grown up a little? Well, this Lee hasn't yet._**


End file.
